


These Broken Pieces are Made of Glass

by Ominous_snail_cult



Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Blood and Gore, Blow Jobs, Crimes & Criminals, Detectives, Drug Use, Eventual Smut, F/F, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Hand Jobs, Injury, M/M, Minor Character Death, Recreational Drug Use, Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-13
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-14 23:29:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 28,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28553916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ominous_snail_cult/pseuds/Ominous_snail_cult
Summary: When Jakes's father dies his world crumbles around him. As truths are uncovered about Roger Peralta's troubling past, Jake is only managing to hang on by a thread. When he turns to his best friend and secret crush Charles for help piecing together his father's hidden life, Jake needs to decide what's more important, bringing horrible secrets into the light, possibly endangering everyone around him, or turning a blind eye and focus on coming to term with his own. His world is shattering around him, and he doesn't know what's more important, sweeping the glass under a blanket or cutting himself as he tries to put the shattered glass back.*Edit*ATTENTION: I have a new fic based of the movie "I Now Pronounce you Chuck and Larry." I won't be advertising my fics like this, but there's literally no other work for this fandom, and I want people to read it. If you find it, SHARE!
Relationships: Charles Boyle/Jake Peralta, Kevin Cozner/Ray Holt, Rosa Diaz/Amy Santiago
Comments: 8
Kudos: 11





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Everyone isn't going to be exactly in-character in this fic. This story is more serious than the show really ever gets so some characters-like Jake- might act differently from how they would. I tried to mirror some of their original personalities, but they don't really fit well. Anyways, this is my first fic so don't be too harsh, though I definitely want feedback on any editing, and any suggestions you have to include in the story are welcome! Enjoy!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jake finds out about his father's death and does not take it well.

When Jake walked into the precinct that morning everything was... not normal. Before the elevator opened, he could hear the usual morning chatter. But, when the doors slid open, it suddenly became very quiet. As he walked over to his desk all eyes were on him, which he was used to, except he hadn't loudly announced anything. The chatter began again when he sat down, but it was hushed, and he still had a few lingering stares. As he looked around at everyone with a confused face, he gently nudged Amy with his foot to grab her attention "What's going on Amy? Why is everyone looking at me so weirdly?" She looked at him, something hiding behind her eyes.  
"You haven't heard anything yet?" She asked carefully, sympathy lacing her voice.  
"No, I haven't heard any-"  
Captain Holt stood in the doorway of his office and cleared his throat to get everyone's attention. "Jake, I'd like to see you in my office please." Please? Since when did Holt say please? And although he and Jake were sometimes on a first name basis, Holt calling him Jake during work was a weird thing. He stood from his chair and began making his way to Holts office, throwing Charles a questioning look, only for Charles to avert his gaze and stare at his black computer screen. 

When he finally made it into the office and closed the door, he immediately started questioning his Captain. "Why is everyone giving me weird looks? Did I do something? What's going on?"  
"Please Jake, sit down," Holt said, motioning to the chair opposite him, "I regret to inform you that I have some bad news. Would you like a glass of water before I start?" Jake waved his hands in annoyance.  
"No, no I'm fine. Please just tell me what's happening."  
"Alright then. Your father is dead. His body was found in a hotel room near an airport. We have detectives on the scene now. Foul play is suspected."  
It took Jakes's brain awhile to register the information, and even longer for his body to catch up with it when he did. For a few minutes, he was just sitting in the chair, almost casually, like he didn't just hear the terrible news. Once he had time to let everything sink in, the walls protecting him began to fold in on themselves. His life was already pretty messy, he didn't have the best mental health or life or childhood, or anything for that matter, but the news was like a wrecking ball to his foundations. He always put on a mask for the people around him, always smiling and making jokes to hide his true thoughts and emotions. But as these barriers broke, so did his facade. 

***

Jake didn’t know why he began to cry so harshly, or why he was upset at all. He had possibly the worst father in existence, always absent, and he never seemed to really care for Jake. And yet his whole body shook as fat, salty tears streamed down his face. He didn't expect this to be his reaction, and he hated that he thought like that. The last time he had seen his father he had told him off, making it extremely clear that they couldn't fix their father-son relationship. God, he had told his father that he _hated_ him! Jake didn't know how long he sat there, sobbing in his captain's office.

While he sat, Holt motioned for Charles and Amy to come to retrieve and comfort Jake. Though he loved Jake very much and cared for the talented detective, he wasn't great at handling human emotions, and he didn't want to make things worse than they already were. When Charles and Amy came in, they gently guided Jake from the chair into a standing position, Charles mouthing _what should we do?_ to their clearly uncomfortable captain. 

"I think it's best that one of you take Jake home for the day. And one of you should stay with him, make sure he's okay." Captain Holt said. "You Boyle. Take Peralta home. I need Santiago here."

"You got it, boss," Charles responded absentmindedly as he and Amy led Jake to the elevator, remembering to grab his things from his desk. This time when Jake walked through the precinct everyone avoided their eyes from him. Once they stood in the elevator, Jake was supporting his full wait on Amy and Charles. He didn't feel like standing anymore. He was still crying, but it was less intense than inside Captain Holts's office. 

His mind and vision are blank as he lets Amy and Charles practically carry him to his car and put him into the passenger seat, stealing his keys. His mind is muddled, and he can barely see through his tears and wet eyelashes. He suddenly becomes very tired, nodding off with his forehead against the window. Tears are still trickling down his cheeks as Charles pulls out of the parking lot, but he doesn't notice. He sleeps through the entire ride home, dreaming about a childhood he always wanted but never had.

***

Jake woke up twenty minutes later from Charles gently shaking his shoulder with his hand. "C'mon Jakey, we're here," Charles said, getting out of the car and walking around to his side, opening the passenger door. His thoughts were still cloudy, and he walked with Charles up to his apartment in a daze. From the precinct to his home, he continued to be in a confused and shocked state, standing blankly against the hallway as Charles unlocked his apartment door for him, nudging him inside the apartment. Charles was saying something they walked into Jake's apartment, but he didn't hear him. It was like there were cotton balls stuffed in his ears. He could hear the muffled sound of Charles' voice, but couldn't make sense of the words. Charles noticed that Jake wasn't paying attention to him, so he grabbed him by the shoulders, forcing Jake to face him. He tilted Jake's chin down so he was looking him in the eyes. "Do you need anything Jakey? Are you hungry? Do you wanna talk or do you want me to distract you?"

Jake would usually be giddy with the close contact with Charles, but right now it was like he was in a dream, his consciousness floating somewhere above him. So, instead of feeling tingly or becoming flushed he slowly nodded his head, speaking just above a whisper, "M'hungry." Jake had skipped breakfast as he did most days, not feeling hungry 'till lunch, but the intense crying had burned the calories in his body, and his stomach rumbled like thunder.

"Okay Jakey, sit on the couch, I'll heat you up some chicken noodle soup," Charles said, leading Jake over to the couch to sit down. He sat down staring blankly ahead while Charles clanked around in the kitchen. He thought about watching TV, but the remote was on the other side of the couch and he didn't feel like moving. Thinking that if he made his first voluntary movement since the precinct it would center him in reality. It would say " _Hey, this is real life buddy, and if you move of your own free will and control your actions it means getting rid of the possibility that this is all just a dream!_ " So, Jake sat still, allowing himself to pretend for a moment that soon he will wake up in his bed, get ready for work, and arrive at the precinct where no one will give him strange stares or silence in his presence. 

He sat for what felt like hours. At some point, Charles had taken a break from watching the soup heat up on the stove and had put a blanket on him. A few moments later Charles sat next to him on the couch, placing a bowl of soup in front of Jake on the coffee table. When he didn't make a move to start eating the soup, Charles picked the bowl back up and put it in Jake's shaky hands. When he began to silently eat his soup, Charles turned on the TV and began flipping through channels before landing on a show he thought Jake might like. Though he had wanted to watch TV earlier, the show acted more as a background sound as he got lost in his head. When he finished his soup, Charles took his bowl and put it in the kitchen sink. When he went back into the living room he saw that Jake was starting to doze off again so he walked to the couch and placed a hand on his friend's shoulder. 

"Do you want to go back to bed Jakey?" Charles asked in a hushed voice. Jake responded with a slow nod of his head, and Charles took that as his signal to hoist him from the couch and bring him to his bedroom, wrapping an arm around Jake's waist to steady his trembling. It was like lugging around a dead body, but Charles was content doing anything he could to help his best friend (and crush). When Charles finally laid Jake on his bed, he fell asleep almost instantly. He felt emotionally and physically drained, despite getting up for work a little over an hour ago. When he was properly snuggled under the covers Charles went to leave the room, only to be stopped by a weak tug on his wrist. He turned back to Jake who was blinking up at him with sleepy eyes. 

"Please don't go yet."

"I'm not going anywhere Jakey," Charles said while Jake took Charles' hand in his and shut his eyes again. After a few minutes of holding Jake's hand while he drifted off to sleep, Charles went to remove his hand again, only to find that the grip on his hand tightened when he tried to take it away. "C'mon Jakey, let go," Charles whispered, light amusement in his voice. When he tried pulling his hand away a little more forcefully Jake only grabbed on stronger, yanking Charles toward the bed until he stumbled forward and fell next to Jake. When he tried once again to move away, Jake snaked an arm around Charles' waist, keeping him secured from leaving. "Well, I guess I'm staying here Jakey," Jake responded by nuzzling closer to Charles. If he had been awake, he would have been appalled by his actions. But to his luck, he was asleep, and couldn't be blamed for his actions. All his body could sense was a warm and comforting presence next to him. As Charles began to fall asleep himself, he unconsciously began rubbing circles into Jake's back, and some of the tenseness from the day began seeping from his body as he fell into a deep sleep.

***

When Jake woke up from his long nap three hours later, he was still snuggled against Charles' side. If he wasn't so jumbled on the inside he might have cared. Might have been excited to be so close to Charles. Instead, he was just thankful for the comfort of another human being, no matter who it was. His head was a bit clearer than it was when he first heard the news, and Oh God did hit him with a powerful second wave. 

_My dad's dead._

_My dad's_ **_dead!_**

_That fucker is dead and for some reason I'm sad._

Jake wanted to not care. His father had been an asshole throughout his whole life, and Jake wanted so bad to feel no sorrow or mourn. Hell, he would have been fine feeling a smidge _happy_ that the man who caused most of the pain in his life was gone. But no, he was doing the exact opposite. He was laying in his bed a broken mess, cuddled up to his secret crush, and feeling pity for himself and his sad childhood. 

_I'm pathetic._

_So close to falling off the edge all the time._

_Why does anybody like me? I'm just a burden._

Jake let these horrible thoughts circle his mind without reprimanding himself for it. Usually, he had enough self-esteem to push the thoughts away before they truly got to him. He laid, for who knows how long, wallowing in his self-pity until he was brought back into reality from Charles stirring next to him, fast asleep. Some common sense got to him, and he rolled to the other side of the bed. How could he allow himself to get so close to Charles? Yes, he was able to show physical affection to other men without feeling like it affected his masculinity as it did for others and their own fragile masculinity, but it's a huge difference when you're crushing on the guy and have poor impulse control. Charles probably wouldn't have minded if Jake stayed curled at his side, but Jake didn't trust himself enough, especially now that he was barely keeping himself together, and oh so craving affection.

A few minutes later he felt Charles slowly get out of bed and head to the kitchen, probably to check the time as Jake didn't have an alarm clock in his room. He usually opted to use his phone for an alarm. He thought about getting up since he wasn't really tired anymore, but the thought of moving silenced that idea. He knew he would have to get up eventually, but he allowed himself some more time to rest in the warmth of his bed. Before he could get too comfortable, a forgotten detail from his conversation with Captain Holt rushed into his mind. When Holt had told Jake that his father was dead, the rest of his voice had been blocked out. But now the words appeared in his head, surrounded by bright flashing lights and sirens. _"Foul play is suspected"_

_Foul play?_

_Foul play?????_

His father had been murdered? Jake knew his dad had made some enemies, the guy was a pretty crappy person, but his dad had pissed someone off so much that he had gotten himself killed. Jake sat up rigidly in his bed. This could be his closure. If he found out who killed his dad then maybe he could move on and push past all the ways his father has tainted his life.

He got out of bed quickly. The shock had properly cleared his mind and woken him up, filling him with energy and purpose. He used cases as an excuse to put of helping himself, always saying that he's too busy helping people, and "It'll just be one more case and then get the help I need!" but instead he just buried everything with his job. He never seemed to get around to it.

So, he marched confidently into the kitchen and stated loudly, "I'm going back to the precinct. I have some work to do." He passed Charles heading to the door, not noticing that Charles was looking at him like he had two heads.

"I don't think that's a good id-" But has was cut off by Jake slamming the door, leaving Charles baffled inside his apartment. "The idiot forgot his car keys," Charles said to no one, rushing out the door to catch up with Jake and get him back inside. He purposefully left the keys so Jake would have to go back inside anyway. He had zero intention of letting Jake go back to the precinct and drowning his emotions in work. 

***

It had taken some coaxing to get Jake back inside, but eventually, Charles had successfully gotten him back into the apartment. 

"What's going on Jakey?" Charles asked when they were both finally sitting on the couch. Jake was buzzing with nervous excitement, throwing Charles off. Not too long ago, Jake had the aura of someone who wanted to fling themselves out the window of a ten-story building. But now he was anxiously bouncing his leg, a small smile playing on his lips.

"Captain Holt said that my Dad was killed. Do you know what that means? I can solve the case! And can find his murderers!" Charles gave a sad sigh and put a hand on Jake's knee to settle his bouncing leg. 

"You know that's not a good idea, Jake. There are detectives working on the case already. His killers will be caught. You don't need to do anything." Charles was just trying to comfort him, Jake knew that. He couldn't help feeling slightly annoyed though. He knew he probably sounded like a crazy person, trying to jump into a case so personal, but he wished he had at least some back-up from his best friend. He _needed_ this. He didn't need support to achieve his goal, but it would sure help.

"If I did, this could be _so_ good for me! Think about it! The last time I spoke with my Dad we left it on a bad note. If I could just do this one thing to forgive him, then maybe I could finally move forward with my life and just forget him!" As he reasoned, a glimmer of hope shone in his eyes. 

"But Jakey, you don't owe him anything. You shouldn't have to repay him to finally let him go without feeling guilty. I'm sorry to say this, but he was a terrible man, and your not in debt to him, he's in debt to you." Everything Charles said just went through one ear and out the other. Charles didn't understand, even if Jake didn't fully understand it himself. His father was a terrible man and did owe Jake so much, but this wasn't about paying debts to his dad but finally finding closure. Jake took the hand still on his knee in his own and gave a final pleading to Charles. 

"Please?" Jake whispered, using puppy dog eyes. Charles cast his eyes down with a defeated sigh before looking back up at Jake. 

"I guess I can't stop you but I will help. Whatever you need to do, you know I'm here for you." 

"Thank you thank you thank you!" Jake shouted, wrapping Charles in a tight hug. He knew he could count on him for almost everything. It was one of the reasons why he loved him so much. His loyalty to those he cared for was almost suffocating.

"Listen, I'll help, but I don't think Holt will let you join on the case. I don't think there's anything I can do to convince him to let this happen."

"Don't worry," Jake said, pulling back from the hug, hands squeezing Charles' shoulders, "I have a plan." A mischievous grin plastered itself across his face.

"Do I even want to know?" Charles groaned, already regretting his decision to help. Jake just chuckled and hugged Charles again. He didn't know which stage of grief this was but it was troubling. He thought about revoking his offer, but he knew that whatever Jake had planned could be dangerous, especially now that he seemed to be going a bit mad. Charles shook the thought out of his mind. Of course, he would help. He would do anything for the man in front of him. Even if it broke Jake into a thousand pieces, Charles would be right by his side to pick him back up.

***

Charles begrudgingly allowed Jake to drive them back to the precinct. He was still extremely against the plan that Jake had laid out. They would go back to the precinct and ask for the people working on the case, saying that _"Jake wants a good detective solving the crime."_ so that they could go directly to the detective/detectives in charge and guilt them into giving information. Charles had mistakenly told Jake that before he came into work, Captain Holt had told everyone to keep any leads or information from Jake as a way to _"protect him from himself."_ Charles had thought this was a good plan until remembering Jake's stubbornness and talent of getting into a case he wasn't supposed to be solving.

When they got to the precinct, Jake put up a good act of covering his excitement. He walked into the building like someone short of a breakdown, asking Holt in a shaky voice who was in charge of the case, because he wanted it to get solved. The name's of the detectives were Ely Moores and Harris Beatty, and they worked just a few precincts over. Charles really wished that Holt hadn't been so fooled by Jake's odd reasoning. It kinda made sense, but he didn't think the Captain would fall for it. On their way out of the precinct and back "home", Jake received hugs and words of endearment from his closest friends in the precinct. Amy had gone to Jake's favorite Mexican restaurant and gotten him his favorite nachos. Gina had pulled some strings to make a pillow with her face in it if he needed comfort from a friend. Charles watched Jake accept all of this, his shoulders hunched and a sad look cloaking his face. Charles thought it was a bit manipulative of him, but Jake didn't seem in the right state of mind, so he let himself excuse some of the odd behavior. 

As soon as they got back into the car Jake immediately perked up, full of enthusiasm once again.

"Off to the precinct!" 

"Maybe we should hold off on going to the detective's Jakey. I mean, they're probably busy with work an-"

"You're right! We should go to them when work is over! Then we can have their full attention! We just need the addresses-" 

"Or we could just go now! Now is fine." Charles said quickly. He had hoped to stall Jake a little longer, but he didn't want to intrude on anyone's home life. 

"Okay!" Jake exclaimed excitedly, sticking the keys in the ignition and starting up the car, "Let's go!" Charles slumped back in his seat. He didn't like where this was heading. Jake had been in a hectic state ever since he had come up with the poor plan, but Charles really wanted to be there for him. He was obviously going through something, something big, and it was clouding his judgment. At this point, Charles was just sticking around so Jake wouldn't get in trouble-or worse- hurt. Jake had always been ignorant when it came to his own safety and Charles didn't know if he could live with himself if Jake went off the deep end. Maybe it was because, after all these years of working together, Charles had always held a torch for his close friend. Maybe Jake wasn't the only one with a clouded judgment. Something deep inside him was screaming that this was wrong and unhealthy; that nothing good could come from it. There were two versions inside him, fighting for control. The smart and observant version that led to him becoming a great detective. The other was the loving, caring version of him, devoted to helping Jake with anything he asked. It made him sick to think the second version was winning, the one harboring a school girl's crush. He internally groaned, squeezing his eyes shut and wishing for this whole fiasco to be over. But of course, it wasn't over. It wouldn't be over for a while, because if he knew anything, he knew that it was hard to get Jake to give up on something he so strongly had his heart set on. 

_He's going to be the death of me._

He chuckled at the thought, finding the exaggeration funny. If only he'd known he wasn't too far off from the truth, then maybe he'd stop Jake now.

***

When they arrived at the (other) precinct, Jake got out of the car, masking his joy. His plan was slowly but surely coming together. If they could just extract a few nuggets of information from the detectives, he could start doing some _real_ work. They walked into the precinct, Jake putting on the same charade he'd been doing all day. They walked to the front desk, quickly showing their badges.

"We're looking for detectives Moores and Beatty. I believe they're working on a case dealing with the death of Captain Rodger Peralta. This is his son, Jake." Charles said, motioning to his "sad" friend. _He'd make a great actor._

"Of course!" the women behind the desk said, giving Jake a warm look, "we got a heads up from your Captain. Just go to the third floor. The elevators right around the corner." She pointed behind herself and to the left, and they walked hurriedly in that direction. When the elevator doors closed Jake let his mask fall since they were alone. He was too ecstatic to notice that Charles had become deathly white and looked close to vomiting. He _felt_ like vomiting. His hands were clammy, and he was sweating, though it wasn't noticeable. If anyone were to see them right now, it would be appropriate to assume _he_ had just lost his father. As the elevator dinged with each passing floor, Charles felt himself get closer and closer to fainting. Before they could reach the third floor the elevator stopped abruptly, causing both of the men to stumble. The lights began to flicker before shutting off completely, leaving them in darkness.

"What's going on?" Charles asked, panic beginning to set in.

"I don't know. Damn, it's dark in here," Jake said, searching his pockets, "I left my phone in the car. Do you have yours?" Jake spoke with such a nonchalant tone as if he expected this to happen. Charles, on the other hand, was hating the situation more and more as the seconds ticked by. 

"Y-yeah, I t-think so." He said, fumbling with his pockets. He pulled his phone out, his shaky hands causing him to drop it. He swore under his breath, kneeling down on the floor, and began searching for his phone. "I dropped my phone Jakey. Can you help me look for it?" He didn't get a response, but he heard another set of hands brushing along the ground. They searched through the dark in silence for a few minutes before Jake found the phone. 

"Aha!" Jake exclaimed, turning on the phone with haste. The light the phone gave off was dim, but it was bright enough for them to find the elevator buttons. Jake pressed the open-door button a few times with no luck. Next, he pushed the emergency button. When that didn't work, he began to push it more intensely, and the cool and collectedness he had earlier began wearing off. "Charles, the door won't open."

"Move over," Charles said, nudging Jake out of the way. When it didn't work for him, he also began to rapidly push it. "Jake, _Jake,_ the door _won't open!"_ He took his phone from Jake and speed-dialed Captain Holt. Just after a few rings, his phone shut off. When he tried turning his phone on again nothing happened. "My phone died," he groaned helplessly. Whatever little vision he got from adjusting to the dark went away along with the light of his phone. He felt powerless, trapped in pitch black, the only comfort knowing that Jake was right beside him. His breathing became sharp and quick, and his heartbeat quickened. As a last resort, he began banging on the walls of the elevator, his shouts filling the small space.

"HELP! HELP! WE'RE TRAPPED IN HERE!" 

After five minutes of pounding his fists against the elevator, he felt hands rest firmly on his shoulders and pull him away from the walls. "You need to stop that Charles. Everything's fine. We'll be fine. The power probably just went out." Jake said, turning Charles to face him in the darkness. He brought him into a hug, hoping to calm his friend. Charles' breathing shallowed out. He hadn't noticed he had begun hyperventilating until he was breathing properly. Jake pulled back from the hug and gently led Charles blindly to a wall. Once they were sitting, backs resting against the wall (he was resting against the wall, Charles was leaning on his shoulder) he finally voiced the thoughts that had been lingering in his mind almost as soon as the elevator had stopped moving and the lights went out.

"This is too much of a coincidence. I think someone knows what we're doing and is trying to stop us. We were just about to get some answers, and then this happens." Jake was speaking more aloud to himself than Charles. He didn't even know if Charles was listening. 

Charles was, and as much as he despised the idea, he couldn't help agreeing with it. It seemed to perfect that they were halted just as they were about to make some progress. He sighed deeply, screwing his eyes shut.

"I think you're right." It hadn't even been six hours since Jake got the news and hatched his plan, and yet they were already being interfered with. Charles gave a pained groan. Everything was happening so fast. He wished he'd been sick this morning or that he dared to say no to Jake. As he got lost in his thoughts of _what if's?_ the darkness of the elevator began lulling him to sleep, along with the gentle rubbing of Jakes's hand on his shoulder. He leaned further into Jake as he reached semi-unconsciousness, head resting in the crook of Jake's neck. Jake also began to fall asleep, the strain of the day catching up with him, his head resting against Charles's. Unlike earlier, he welcomed the closeness, letting it take the edge off the stressful day. He dreamed of nothing, where Charles dreamed of being trapped in dark, small spaces. 

***

They woke to the sound of a loud, guttural screech. They jumped up from where they had been resting on each other, both groggy and confused. A light assaulted their eyes, both groaning and blinking madly at the sudden brightness. When their eyes adjusted, they could see the doors to the elevator being pried open. A face looked down at them where the top of the elevator had made it up to the third floor. 

"You guys okay in there? Didn't realize anyone was trapped in here. We banged on the door but didn't get a response, the guys said, continuing to pry open the doors.

"Yeah, we're fine. Must have fallen asleep. It's been a long day." Charles responded, stretching and yawning.

"What happened anyway? How long has it been?" Jake asked, wincing as the door gave another screech. 

"We lost power. There was a back-up generator for the elevator, but that was shut-off too. We got the power back, but it looks like someone fiddled with the gears for the elevator and its power. Looks like someone planned this. Anyways, you guys haven't been stuck in here for too long. The power cut off about an hour ago, but we got it back after forty-five minutes. We couldn't get the elevator to work, so we had to get the doors open on every floor in case anyone was stuck. And thank God we did! We'll be able to get you guys out in five minutes." Jake and Charles looked up at the man, completely stunned. Not only had the power went out for the precinct, but the power and mechanics for the elevator had been messed with. They looked at each other with wide eyes, coming to the same conclusion. Someone _was_ trying to stop them! They stood there awkwardly, waiting for the guy to finish with the doors. 

When the doors were finally open wide enough, the guy and some other people in the precinct helped hoist Jake and Charles from the elevator. After saying quick thank you’s to the people who helped them, they asked around the precinct if Moores and Beatty were still there. Not to their surprise, they left, along with many of the other day shift detectives. When the power went out, they were close to the end of the workday, and many people were allowed to leave early since they couldn't get any work done. 

They left the precinct taking the stairs, Jake disappointed, and Charles a little happy. He was still worried that they had been targeted and stopped, but he was slightly thankful it happened. It caused a delay in Jake's plan, and might even make him give up on it. But to his dismay, Jake was determined to keep things going. 

"Okay, so that didn't work. We should go to their houses next. And then we'll-" before he could finish, he was interrupted by Charles.

"And then we'll what, Jake? We were just purposefully trapped in an elevator for an hour so we _couldn't_ talk to these people! We're sticking our noses in something we shouldn't be! We're entering dangerous territory, and we might be putting other people at risk!” 

Charles was talking in the hopes that he would knock some sense into Jake. Jake just looked at him with reproach in his eyes. 

"If you want to back out, then fine. I can do this by myself." Charles noticed a hint of a plea in his voice. Charles knew that Jake would do this with his help or not, but he was still hoping for some support. Charles took him by the shoulders and all but shook him.

"Jake, what if something happens to you? What if your Dad got mixed up with some bad people, and they hurt you too? This is serious. Can you please just think about it for a bit? Before you continue?" Jake sighed in defeat. The last thing he wanted to do was to give up, but when Charles got that look in his eye, Jake couldn't help but obey. He looked like a lost puppy.

"Fine. I'll think about it. But that doesn't mean I'm done. I still going to do this, even if you want me to wait." 

"Thank you," Charles said, pulling Jake into a hug, "you know I'll still help you if you decide to keep going, right? I just want you to be safe."

"I know, Charles. I know." Jake didn't know if he said this to acknowledge that Charles wanted him to be safe, or that he knew he wouldn't let Jake do this alone. He felt bad for putting Charles through this with very few options. He felt like he was manipulating Charles, even though he gave him a free pass to leave. He knew Charles wouldn't take it though. At that moment, Jake decided he wouldn't put Charles into harm's way, even if it meant lying to his best friend. Charles would take a bullet for him, and deep down in his stomach he had an awful feeling that bullets might come, and he'd be damned if he was the reason that Charles died. So, he would keep Charles out of this, even if he had to take the bullet himself. 

***

When they got back to Jake's apartment the sun had almost fully set. They were both still tired from the day, doing so much in a short period of time. They ordered pizza and turned on the TV. Charles chose to stay over at Jake's. He was still worried about him and the state he was in. As he sat on the couch, belly full of pizza, his eyelids became heavy and he started to fall asleep for the third time that day. On the other side of the couch, Jake had pretended to fall asleep a few minutes earlier. He opened his eyes carefully as he heard gentle snores coming from Charles. He quietly got up from the couch and clicked off the TV. He covered Charles with a blanket before grabbing his jacket and keys, remembering to turn shut off the lights before slipping out of the apartment and rushing to his car. 

***


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second chapter is here! I think once I'm done with this fic I'm gonna start writing one based on "I Now Pronounce you Chuck and Larry," because there are no fics for that movie, and I want an alternate ending where Chuck and Larry fall in love. I personally didn't think the movie was gay enough. Tell me what you think. It might end up just being one-shots of them if they were together without much plot. Anyway, enjoy this chapter!

Jake pulled up to the first house. When he and Charles were asking around the precinct earlier, he managed to get the address of one of the detectives. He felt bad for not letting Charles in on this, but it was for his own good. As he had said to Jake before, this could be dangerous. 

He walked up to the front porch and knocked on the door, checking his watch. It was 8:17 p.m. so he didn't think it was too late. It just felt late because he was so tired after the eventful day. After a few minutes of no answer, he knocked again, checking to make sure there was a car in the driveway. He noted there were two, so this detective Beatty had to be home. He was about to knock once again when the door suddenly opened. A man stood in the doorway, clearly annoyed at the late disturbance. He was wearing grey sweatpants and slippers. His eyes had a displeased and tired look.

"What do you want?" 

"Sorry to disturb you, but I'm looking for Detective Harris Beatty?" Jake said, feeling guilty as he realized maybe it  _ was  _ too late for this. 

_ Oh well. I'm already here, aren't I? _

"One second, please," the man said before leaning back to shout at someone in the house. "Hun, there's someone here for you! I think it's someone from work!"

Jake heard someone distantly shout back.

"Hold on a moment I'm coming!"

A few seconds later, another man came bustling to the door wearing a similar sweatpants and slippers ensemble. 

_ Oh boy, I really came at the wrong time. _

"How can I help?" Beatty asked in a more cheerful tone than his (Jake quickly noted the rings both their fingers) husband. 

"Um, I'm Detective Jake Peralta... uh, I heard you were working on a case involving my Dad?" Jake said, suddenly very nervous. 

"Ah, of course! I knew Peralta sounded familiar. Please, come in!" Beatty said, motioning inside his house. Jake hesitantly stepped in, shooting Beatty's husband an apologetic look. He responded with a grunt before heading to another room. 

"Please don't take long. It's late," he said, calling over his shoulder. Jake turned his attention back to Detective Beatty.

"I'm sorry to intrude Detective Beatty but-"

"Please! Call me Harris."

"Uh, Detective Harris, but no one will tell me anything that happened with my Dad, and I was hoping to get some answers? Up until today, I didn't even know he was in Brooklyn!" 

Detective Harris gave Jake a pitying look before responding. "I'm not sure how much I can tell you without getting in trouble...but- oh well, who's it gonna hurt? Please, come sit down." Harris led Charles into the living room, motioning for him to sit on the couch. 

"Okay. So, what do you want to know?"

"Well, for starters, how did he die in the first place. Also, where even was he?"

"He was found in a hotel room, shot in the stomach and chest," Harris said, a bit hesitantly, "there was no gun found in the room, nor was there any sign of a break-in. Whoever shot him most likely knew him. We swept for fingerprints but only found his. Uh, let's see..." Harris's face hardened with concentration. "I'm not sure what else I can tell you..."

"If that's all, then that's okay. You've already shared so much. I wouldn't want to overstay my visit or get you in trouble." Jake went to stand up, but Harris stopped him with a wave of his hand. 

"There's one more thing. We found a letter in his pocket, but we couldn't make much sense of it. It was soaked in blood, but we were able to see who it was addressed to."

"Who was it for?"

"We were able to make out "To Sherlock" if that makes any sense to you." Jake gulped, a bewildered expression on his face. 

"Uhm, yeah, that's my middle name," he said, slightly embarrassed. "Why wouldn't he just put Jake?" 

"I'm not sure. Well, there's not really much else I can tell you. I'm surprised no one told you anything, even with the investigation still going. Did you even get a call about the body? I'm sure it's still in the morgue."

"Uh, no, I didn't. They might have called my mom... or if my dad had a girlfriend..." Jake trailed off, getting lost in thought. Why hadn't he gotten a call about the body? Surely any examinations were done, and they'd give him to his family. Jake shook his head, focusing his attention back on Detective Harris. "I should probably be going now. Thanks for all your help." They both stood from the couch and shook hands.

"No problem. If you need anything else don't hesitate to stop by. I'd give you my number, but I lost my phone."

"That's all right. I think I got everything I need." Jake stopped at the door, hand hovering over the knob, and turned back to Harris. "Just one more thing. The other Detective who's working the case. I think her name's Ely Moores. I was gonna stop by tomorrow, but I don't have her address."

"Sorry, can't help you there. She likes to keep her home and work life separate. If you want to talk to her, you'll have to stop by the precinct. Though she probably doesn't know any more than I do." Jake kept himself from laughing. He found the similarities between Moores and Rosa amusing. 

"It's okay. Thanks anyways. Goodnight!"

"Goodnight!"

Jake left the house, practically vibrating with excitement. He'd gotten a lot more information than he thought he would. Detective Beatty had been kind of a blabbermouth. He went to open his car door but paused. Something was taped to the window. A note, he realized, upon further inspection.

_ Back Off, Peralta! _

Jake's breathing hitched. He ripped the note off the window and looked at it more closely. He looked up, rapidly looking around the neighborhood. He didn't see anyone, but he couldn't shake the feeling of being watched. Someone was onto him, and he had barely scratched the surface. He knew as much as the detectives working the case did, and he'd been threatened. 

He got in his car, checking the back seats and doubling checking that the doors were locked. He turned on the car and sped away, 10 mph above the speed limit. Once he felt he was a safe distance away, he slowed down. The extremity of the situation set in as he drove back to his apartment, looking into the side mirror every five minutes to make sure no one was following him. Nothing too bad had happened yet, but he could feel something lurking, waiting for just the right moment to jump out and sink in its claws. He had to consider how bad this could get. Not only would he be putting himself in harm's way, but also Charles. And maybe even Moores and Beatty! Whoever left the threat now knew where Detective Beatty lived, and it was all Jake's fault. He wanted so desperately to stop now, but he couldn't. He just  _ couldn't.  _ Whatever or whoever he was dealing with needed to be stopped, and once again, Jake found himself putting that burden on his shoulders, practically begging it to come up. He rode the whole way in silence, lost in deep thought. So deep, he didn't notice the black car with the tinted windows that started to follow him.

***

Charles woke up from his spot on the couch, startled by the slam of a door. He jumped up, fully alert, to see Jake locking the door, a panicked expression on his face. 

"What's going on Jake? Where were you?" Charles asked. Jake had a guilty look in his eyes when he responded after taking a few deep breaths.

"I went over to Detective Harris' house without you. When I left there was a note taped to my car," Jake said, handing Charles the note. Before Charles could say anything, Jake continued. "Just before I got here, I noticed a car following me, and when I parked, it did too." 

"You were FOLLOWED?!?!?!" Charles yelled. He slumped on the couch and put his face in his hands. "I KNEW this was a bad idea, I KNEW! Why couldn't you just lay off of this? Leave it to the other detectives? We could be in DANGE-"

There was a knock on the door. Jake and Charles froze, staring fearfully at the door. They stood in silence for what felt like hours but was really just five minutes. There was no other knock, so Jake went over to the door. 

"Jake? What are you doing?" Charles whisper shouted. Jake waved a hand at him to be quiet. 

"There's no one out there, but I can see something on the ground," Jake said, looking through the peephole.

"What is it?"

"An envelope, I think. I'm gonna open the door."

"Jake, stop."

Jake ignored him as he twisted the door handle. He opened the door slowly, peeking around carefully. He stuck his head into the hallway and looked around. Clear. He bent down. He picked up the envelope gingerly before stepping back and closing the door. 

"Should I open it?" he asked. 

"NO, you shouldn't OPEN IT! What if there's cyanide powder or something else in it?!?!?!" Charles walked over to Jake and snagged the letter from his hands. "We need to take this to a lab to be inspected." 

Jake tried to grab the letter from Charles, but he held it out of Jake's reach.

"Jake, please. This is probably from the person who was following you. Can we please just get it looked at first?" 

"Fine." Jake sighed, shoulders sagging. 

"Thank you," Charles said, grabbing his jacket and putting the letter in a pocket. "Jakey... we need to tell someone about this, or just- stop! Something could happen, that car could still be out there!" He grabbed Jake's shoulders to get his attention. "We _can't_ keep doing this." Jake looked up at him sadly. 

"But I can't give up now! I just got some information. Obviously, something big is going on, and I want to figure out what."

"I know Jakey, but you could get hurt. Or _Killed!_ Can we at least get some help? We don't have to stop, but we need back up. And I don't want you running off doing things by yourself without telling me first. Something could have happened, and I wouldn't have known where you were."

"I know, I know."

"Maybe we could get Rosa to help? I'm sure that she wouldn't tell anyone. We might even be able to get Amy." Charles said pleadingly. He didn't think Jake would stop, but the least he could do was get some backup. 

"Okay," Jake responded, eyes cast down at the floor. He felt like a toddler being scolded for doing something bad. Well, he supposed he was doing something bad. This wasn't detective of the year.

"I just want you to know that if you have to do this... if you _want_ to do this, you shouldn't do it alone. I wouldn't be able to live with myself if something happened to you."

Jake looked up at him, a small smile on his face. "Thank you, Charles. For all your help."

"You're welcome, Jakey. It's late. We should get some rest. And don't go sneaking off again. Okay?"

"Okay."

Charles looked down at himself. He was still wearing his work clothes. He had been for the entire day. When he looked back up at Jake, he seemed to read his mind and went to get Charles some pajamas to borrow. When they were dressed and ready for bed, Charles went to make up the couch.

"What are you doing, Charles? You can just sleep with me in my bed."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure. Stop being weird, come on."

When they were in bed, Charles had trouble falling asleep. He wasn't sure if it was because he thought something would happen to them if he did, or if he was worried that Jake would sneak out again. He only started dozing off when Jake rolled closer to him, comforted by his presence and putting him at ease from the stressful day.

***

When Jake woke, he found himself tangled up with Charles. His arm was slung over Charles' chest, leg over his waist, head resting in the crook of his neck. He stiffened and tried to pull away, but was stopped by Charles' arms engulfing him, keeping him in place. When he tried to wiggle his way out of the embrace, Charles only tightened his grip and held him even closer. Jake craned his neck up to look at his alarm clock.

_ 6:37 a.m.  _

It was early, so Jake allowed himself to stay where he was. He relaxed in Charles' arms, hoping that he would be able to get away before Charles woke up, or that he would think Jake was asleep when he did.

Unknown to Jake, Charles was already awake. He had stayed where he was when he had awoken with Jake half laying on top of him. Sure, maybe it was a bit weird when he kept Jake from leaving, but he wanted to delay the day, and it felt so  _ nice  _ to be snuggled up with Jake. And if Jake  _ really  _ had a problem with it, he would have "woken" Charles to release him.

They stayed like that for another half hour, curled up in each other, neither wanting to move. Charles risked a look down at Jake, only to find Jake looking up at him. They both froze, gazes locked on each other, both refusing to move. In a second of lost control, Jake let his eyes flicker down to Charles' lips. He quickly looked back up into Charles' eyes, hoping he hadn't noticed, only to see Charles' own eyes flash down to his own lips, lingering there for a second. Throwing caution into the wind, Jake leaned his face a bit closer, pressing a quick, chaste kiss to Charles' lips. It was brief, their lips had barely touched, and yet Jake felt horrified by what he'd done. He tried scrambling away, but before he could, Charles pulled him back down, meeting their mouths together in a soft yet passionate kiss. Jake sighed into it, his hand coming up to cup Charles's face. Charles rested his hand on the back of Jake's neck, the other on his back. Charles was hesitant, keeping the kiss gentle slow, not wanting to scare Jake away. Jake seemed to notice this, so he took the initiative to deepen the kiss, opening his mouth a bit more as an invitation to let Charles know he was okay with this. Charles took the invitation, opening his mouth a bit more and letting his tongue snake against Jake's bottom lip. Jake moaned, moving his mouth against Charles' more hungrily and less tender and passionate, like how the kiss started when they were testing the waters. 

They laid there for a few minutes longer, lazily making out in the comfort of the morning. Jake pulled away, allowing both of them to catch their breaths, resting his forehead against Charles'. 

"I've been wanting to do that for a while," Jake said quietly. 

"Me too," Charles responded as he began to trace patterns on Jake's back. Jake pulled back a bit more so he could look Charles in the eyes.

"Really?"

"Yes Jakey, really," Charles said, hesitating before he continued, "I like you." His eyes inquired Jake's as he waited for a response. 

"I like you, too," Jake said, leaning down and capturing Charles' lips, smiling into the kiss. Before they could start making out again, a knock came from the door. They pulled away, looking at each other fearfully. They jumped out of bed, rushing out of Jake's room, and warily making their way to the front door. Jake got to the door first, peaking through the hole, sighing in relief. 

"It's just Sarge," Jake said, no longer scared.

"Really? What time is it?" Charles checked the time on the microwave. It was 8:30.  _ Apparently, we were making out for more than a few minutes,  _ Charles thought, chuckling to himself. 

***

Sarge had brought some homemade chicken noodle soup-much better than the canned stuff Jake had yesterday-and get well soon cards from Cagney and Lacey. He didn't stay for long, mostly giving Jake words of encouragement, and letting him know that everyone at the precinct was there for him. His eyes had kept darting between Jake and Charles the whole time. (They hadn't noticed, but their lips were red and slightly puffy). When he did leave, Jake wasted no time jumping right back into action.

"We need to go back to the precinct and talk to Detective Moores," said Jake, not waiting for a response while grabbing his jacket and keys. Charles didn't argue, just followed Jake out of the apartment. They drove in silence until they got closer to the precinct. Charles became jittery. His leg was bouncing, and he kept his eyes glued to the review mirror, expecting to see someone following them any second. When they parked, his leg continued to shake the car, and he made no move to get out. Jake pressed a firm hand on his thigh, squeezing gently to get his attention. 

"Charles, stop that. Everything's going to be fine." Jake said, giving Charles a reassuring smile before leaning over and giving him a quick peck on the lips. "If you want to stay in the car, it's fine." 

Charles jerkily shook his head, taking a few deep breaths before getting out of the car. As they entered the precinct, both Jake and Charles were eyeing the place warily, looking out for anyone suspicious. They walked to the front desk once again, meeting the smile of the same women from before. 

"Back so soon! What can I help you with?"

"We were wondering if Ely Moores was in today? We never got a chance to talk to her." Jake said, taking the lead of the conversation. Charles still hadn't fully calmed down yet and was eyeing everyone suspiciously. 

"I'm not sure if she's in, but you're more than welcome to go up again!"

"Um, are there stairs?" Charles asked a bit panicky. He did not want to repeat the situation from the day before. 

"Yes, they're right across from the elevator."

"Okay, let's go Jakey," Charles said, not issuing a thank you. He didn't care if he was being rude, he just wanted to get this over with. He grabbed Jake by the shoulder and pulled him in the direction of the stairs, getting a weird look from the front desk women. They went up quickly, taking the steps two at a time. When they reached the third floor, Charles hesitated by the door, staring distrustfully at the handle. Jake took his hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze before entering the precinct. It was busier than the day before, yet quieter and emptier than the 99th precinct. This precinct covered an area with lower crime rates than other places, so it had fewer detectives and officers.  _ Lucky for them the hotel's in their range,  _ Jake thought somberly. 

They walked up to the first desk, occupied by a young-looking detective going over paperwork. 

"Um, excuse us," Jake said, tapping the detective on the shoulder, "we're looking for Detective Moores? Is she here right now?" The detective turned his attention to them, looking nervous.  _ He must be  _ really  _ new. Were barely a threat! _

"Uh, sorry, no. She left earlier. Wasn't feeling well, which is a bummer, because she had just gotten a call from the lab. They got the DNA results from a strand of hair they found. She was about to call Detective Beatty with the progress."

Charles and Jake looked at each other, both alarmed by the news.

"She wasn't feeling well?" They said in unison. 

"No, she wasn't. She got breakfast at this new place down the street. Said she may have gotten food poisoning 'cause she was feeling nauseous," the detective answered, questioningly. "Why is it important?"

"It's not important! Not at all. Do you know where she lives?" Charles said hurriedly.

"Uh, yeah," the detective said, turning from them and rifling through his drawers. "not many of us do, but I watered her plants a few weekends ago while she was away, and I think I still have her address. Here it is!" He pulled out a ripped piece of paper. He was about to give it to them before he pulled it back. "Why do you want to know anyway?" Jake thought, quickly coming up with a lie.

"We have some information that might help her with the case she's working on. It's crucial we give it to her immediately." Jake said, with as much confidence as he could muster.

"Okay," the detective responded a bit apprehensively, but seemingly believing the lie. He was about to say something else, but Jake had already taken the paper, and he and Charles were already heading for the stairs. 

***

They put the address into a GPS and arrived shortly at Ely Moores' apartment complex. They found her apartment on the second floor and knocked. After five minutes of no response, they knocked again. Jake looked down at the paper, double-checking that they had the right number.

"Why isn't she answering?" Jake said, knocking on the door for the third time. 

"That detective said she felt sick. Maybe she's sleeping or throwing up. Or maybe she just doesn't want to answer the door!" Charles rambled on for a bit longer, listing all of the possibilities. The day had put him in a frenzied state. He stopped when they both heard footsteps somewhere inside the apartment. They were coming closer to the door, and an annoyed mumbling could be heard. They both anticipated the door opening when the footsteps stopped. They listened intently, ears pressed to the door.

"Detective Moores?" Are you there-" Jake began to ask before he was cut off by a deafening shriek, followed by a loud thump. Both their hands immediately went to their holsters. Jake swore under his breath; he'd left his gun at home. Luckily, Charles remembered his. 

"Open the door, Jake! Quickly!" Charles whisper shouted, getting into a ready position to enter the apartment. Before ramming the door, Jake checked the handle. Surprisingly, the door opened.

"It's been unlocked this whole time!" Jake said in frustration, opening the door for Charles and moving so Charles could enter first. Charles had his gun at the ready as he walked in, eyes flying around the apartment. He looked at the ground and froze, all confidence gone. A woman lay on the floor, presumably Detective Moores, with a freshly slashed throat gushing blood. Her eyes were bulging from their sockets as she was blinked rapidly, looking up at them with terrified eyes. Charles stood still, shell-shocked, while Jake flew into action. He stripped off his jacket and knelt beside Moores, pressing it firmly against the gash. 

"Charles!" he screamed, grabbing Charles' attention. "Call an ambulance!" He pulled his phone out with shaky hands. He dialed 911, putting the phone to his ear.

" _ 911, what's your emergency?" _

"This is Detective Boyle, I need an ambulance, there's an officer down. An apartment complex, corner of Jackson and Maple, room 47, second floor." Charles told the operator, getting back a little composure. He looked around the apartment.  _ Whoever did this could still be inside!  _ "We also may need backup!"

" _ Okay, we have an ambulance heading your way-"  _ Charles hung up before the operator could finish whatever they were saying. He aimed his gun around the apartment, looking around cautiously. He started going around, checking rooms and closets. He walked into the living room. A window was open. He looked out. He saw a car speeding away from the complex.

"Damnit!" he yelled, shoving his gun back in the holster. He rushed back to where Jake and Moores were. She wasn't unconscious yet, but almost there. Blood pooled around her, staining her clothes. Jake still had his jacket pressed against the wound. 

"I need you to find something else to stop the bleeding!" Jake said urgently. Charles rushed into the bathroom, finding three fresh hand towels. He handed them to Jake, taking the now crimson jacket. Moores suddenly reached out, grabbing Charles' wrist, and bringing it toward her front jean pocket. 

"Something... for you..." she choked out weakly. Charles reached into her pocket, fingers landing on a hard, rectangular object. He grabbed it, pulling it out quickly. He stared at it in amazement. 

"Jake, look!" he said, waving it in front of Jake's eyes. "A flash drive!" They heard sirens in the distance, getting closer. 

"Hide...it..." she mustered out before falling unconscious. Charles stared as her eyes closed and she lay limp.

"Is she... Is she dead?" he asked. Jake took her wrist, feeling for a pulse.

"Her pulse is faint, but it's there. She's not dead yet," Jake said. The sirens were now directly outside. They could hear the shouting of people in action. "Listen to what she said! Hide the flash drive!" Charles listened, stuffing it into his pocket. 

They stayed there, crouched next to Detective Moores, both with bloody hands when the paramedics and police came in. Both moved liked ghosts as they were ordered away from the body and taken outside. They showed their badges and were questioned. They answered absentmindedly, shock catching up with them both. They were told they needed to go down to the station to give statements.  _ Or was it to be questioned?  _ Jake thought, shuddering. He realized they  _ could  _ be questioned. They were the only two witnesses and they didn't see anyone else, they only heard.  _ We could easily be backing each other up.  _ Jake didn't give it too much thought. 

They rode in the back of a cruiser together, cuddled up and shaking. They looked at each other, not needing words to know they were thinking the same thing. 

_ Whatevers on that flash drive, someone didn't want us to know. They went as far as killing someone so we couldn't get it. _

_***_

But Ely Moores didn't die. The slash to her throat had caused a great deal of blood loss, but not enough to kill her. Upon further inspection, it was determined the gash had almost been surgical like the person knew where to cut without killing her. She was also found to be pregnant, which explained the morning nausea. Jake and Charles didn't know this though; they only knew she had survived. And that is what was important to them. After they gave their statements to the police, they went to the hospital to check on her. The doctors said she would live but would be on bed rest for a few weeks, not giving many other details. When the news got out what happened to her, Detective Beatty called his precinct, quitting the case. The case was still open but without the flash drive, whoever worked on it next wouldn't get very far. 

_ The flash drive. _

Jake had completely forgotten about the flash drive with so many thoughts swirling through his brain. Detective Moores had almost been murdered, and the attempt had almost been like a message. All it needed was a note written in blood saying  _ "This will happen to you!"  _

Captain Holt had been informed of their actions. For now, they could go home and digest what had happened, but both had received a phone call from Holt. He made it very clear they were in trouble for involving themselves in a case they shouldn't have. He was especially angry at Charles for allowing this to happen, saying  _ "you know better than this."  _ and " _ you should have notified me of Jake's plan, blah blah blah." _

Charles didn't care that Holt was mad at him. He was scared. Terrified. Weighed with so much  _ guilt.  _ He couldn't help but feel responsible for what happened to Moores. He voiced this to Jake in the car ride home and had been reassured that it wasn't their fault what happened to her. It wasn't like  _ they  _ slit her throat. Jake said this to calm Charles, but internally, he was thinking the same thing. Maybe if they had just left everything alone Moores would have been fine. It seemed whoever did this to her wanted,  _ them  _ to leave the case alone, perhaps even just  _ Jake  _ to leave the case alone. He didn't know why, but Jake felt like if he knew more, an important sliver of information he had hidden away some memory would click everything into place. Like  _ he  _ was the missing key in this. He just needed to look at whatever was on the flash drive.

They were almost back at Jake's apartment. It had taken longer to get there because they needed a ride to where they left Jake's car at Moores' apartment. Aside from the reassuring, they were both silent, had been since Ely's apartment. Jake was picking at his hands, dried blood crusted under his nails. His jacket had been ruined, so now he was just wearing a t-shirt in the fall weather. The heater in his car was broken, so he sat shivering, blood literally and figuratively on his hands.

They pulled into a spot, getting out and walking hurriedly up to Jake's apartment, looking back over their shoulders as they went. Once inside, Jake slammed the door shut, making sure to triple check it was locked. Lips were suddenly assaulting his own, hands clutching him like he was a life preserver. Charles was clinging to him as such, afraid and in need of some kind of comfort. Jake clung back, wrapping his arms securely around Charles' waist, not wanting to let go. Charles pulled from the kiss, burying his face in Jake's shoulders. 

"What the fuck, Jake. What the  _ actual fuck. What's going on?" _ Charles mumbled. He rarely swore, but he felt the circumstances called for it. Jake rubbed his back, whispering  _ I know  _ over and over again as Charle's continued to freak out. Charles pulled his head back once again, grabbing Jake's face and staring intensely into his eyes. 

"We need to stop  _ now. _ Do you hear me, Jake? This is no longer safe. Can you please, just  _ forget  _ the whole thing?  _ Please?"  _ Charles said in a stern tone. He had gone through all of this, uncertain, but he had made his mind up on this. 

"Yes, I will," Jake responded evenly with no hesitation or argument. And he meant it this time. He'd have been willing to go further as long as it only put himself in danger, but they had almost cost someone their life. Charles didn't hear the certainty though.

"Promise me, Jakey.  _ Promise me,"  _ Chares demanded rather than asked. He had just gotten Jake, the way he had always wanted him, and he would  _ not  _ lose him to some dangerous goose chase.

"I promise. I'll stop pursuing the case. Can we at least look and see what's on the flash drive? We can hand it over immediately after." 

Curiosity overtook Charles. They weren't  _ technically  _ doing any more detective work if they just  _ looked  _ at what was on the flash drive. It's not like they were going to  _ do  _ anything with what they found. Charles nodded, and Jake instantly released him, walking into his bedroom to get his computer. He walked back out, sitting on the couch, placing the computer on the coffee table. Charles sat next to him, taking the flash drive out of his pocket. Once the computer was on, he went to put in the flash drive but stopped. 

"I can't do it," he said, handing the flash drive to Jake. "Too nervous." Jake took the flash drive, hesitating himself for a few seconds before sticking it into the USB port. He clicked "download file" when the option came up. They watched with anticipation as the blue bar moved up. It moved slowly, inching its way on the screen. Unknowingly, Jake had taken Charles' hand, anxiety filling them both. Their heart rates increased as the bar made a sudden jump from a quarter of the way loaded to almost 75%. After ten seconds of waiting, the file was finally downloaded. Jake reached a steady hand to the keyboard, clicking " _ open file".  _

It was a letter. A letter addressed to "Sherlock". A letter for Jake, from his father. As he and Charles read the letter, similar expressions of shock and horror fell on their faces. At the end, written as P.S., there was a link. Before either of them could click on it the computer shut off. Jake frantically tried turning it on again, only for a black screen to read 'Battery Dead, Please Charge."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finished! Make sure to leave and suggestions. I'm a little unsure of what direction this story is going, but I have a few ideas and no plan of stopping. Tell me if you think I should do the "Chuck and Larry" idea. Also, I know it says there are other relationships in the tags, but those are going to merely be mentioned. Chapter three should be it in a week or so. Sorry if this chapter was a bit shorter than the last, but I wanted to get it out quicker.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! Chapter three! Jeez, finally. Sorry, everyone, I've been busy with school. It's like each chapter takes longer and longer to get out! Just a heads up, this chapter has smut. Just wanted to let you know in case it's triggering.

Once the computer was charged up enough, Jake and Charles turned the computer back on and reread the letter.

_Dear "Sherlock",_

_I don't have much time, so I will try to be brief. They're getting closer, I can feel it. I'm gonna get straight to the point. Over the past 30 years, I've been transporting illegal weapons and drugs to different countries. I didn't mean for it to happen, but one thing led to another and I fell into a gang. A worldwide one, more like a secret ring, with some of the richest and most powerful people from all around the world. Something like a conspiracy. I don't know. I'm not sure what they do, or why they have me transporting things for them. I've been trying to weasel my way out for years, or at least let their existence be known without drawing suspicion to myself, but if you see this letter, it means they've caught on. You can't trust anyone. Not even your most trusted friends or coworkers. But I do have someone you can trust, a close companion of mine that I teamed with while in the ring. I've had him drop a letter off for you, in case anything happens to me. I'm sorry to drop all of this on you. I know you have no reason to trust me, but I believe you're the only one who can put a stop to this. To stop whatever it is they have planned. I have hope for you. Don't let me down. And remember, don't trust ANYONE!!!_

_from,_

_Dad_

_P.S. you can contact my friend here!_

Jake gulped as he read the document over and over again. He stood and started pacing, cracking his knuckles anxiously. 

"Oh my god oh my god OH MY GOD!!! What do we do?" Jake suddenly stopped pacing, turning to face Charles with wide eyes. "The envelope. It must be the letter he's talking about!"

Charles didn't respond. He sat on the couch, staring at the computer screen. He looked up at Jake with a blank expression. A grin broke his face and he started laughing maniacally. 

"What's so funny, Charles?" Jake asked, looking at him worriedly. Charles stopped laughing, but the smile stayed.

"All of this is funny! All of it! Good ol' Robert Peralta! This is _exactly_ the kind of thing he would do. And now he's gonna go and drag you into this. It's not _fair_ Jake. He's not being _fair!_ He can't just do this! Be an absent father and then just _spring_ this on you, expecting you to clean up his mess!" Charles' expression was now serious, anger in his voice. This was _ridiculous._ Ridiculous! But what else should he have expected? "Well, now that we're apparently part of this, fill me in on everything you know. It seems we're not quite done with the case, whether we like it or not." 

Jake looked at him warily before sitting back on the couch. He filled him in on what Detective Beatty told him.

"He said that my Dad was shot, there was no sign of a break-in, no weapon found..." he trailed off, thinking over the information, making sure he didn't miss anything. Charles froze, eyes widening in realization. He scanned the document before facing Jake.

"Do you think..." he swallowed heavily, gathering his thoughts.

"Think what, Charles?" Jake asked curiously.

"Do you think that whoever killed him could have been his friend?" said Charles in a small voice. Jake looked at him with confusion, not catching the point Charles was trying to make.

"You said that there wasn't a break-in. That means whoever did this was let in willingly. It says in the letter that he trusts this guy. Could it have been him?" 

Jake looked over the letter again, carefully reading about the mystery friend. It could have been him. 

"Oh god, I hope not. Who are we supposed to go to if it was him? Who can we trust? Maybe it was someone disguising themselves as room service or a cleaning lady!" Jake said hopefully. If they couldn't rely on whoever his dad was talking about, then they lost any leverage they had-leverage they desperately needed. "We should open the letter. And follow this link."

"Shouldn't we tell someone about this first?" 

"Absolutely not! If we tell anyone, we put them at risk," Jake said, hand already moving to the computer. Taking a deep breath, he moved the cursor and clicked on the link. The screen loaded and a PDF popped. Jake opened the PDF, squeezing his eyes shut. After a couple of seconds, he slowly opened his eyes. At first, he thought it was blank. It almost was, except for an email address linked at the bottom of the page. It was a bit anticlimactic for whatever else he had expected.

"That's it?" Charles said in disbelief. "Couldn't he have just included that in the letter?" Jake ignored him, instead, opening a tab and going to his email. He selected "compose" and typed the email address into the "To" option. When he did, the email address was underlined in red and a short message appeared on the screen. It read "this address does not exist."

Jake and Charles stared at the screen in confusion. They seemed to be doing that a lot. Jake went back to the PDF, dragging the cursor to the email address. It lit up, becoming clickable. It was a link.

He clicked it, and a webpage opened up in a new tab.

"What the hell?" Jake mumbled as he read through it, scrolling down the page. It was a website for a dog food company. _Dog food!_ And part of the website was in a language neither of them understood. Jake clicked on what he _hoped_ was the contact page. On it, he found another email address. A few of them actually. But only one of them caught his eye. 

_randallward@gmail.com_

_Randall Ward._

_Randall Ward? Where have I heard that name before?_

"It's this one," Jake said with sincerity. 

"How do you know? It could be any of them," Charles responded, eyes flitting over the other emails listed. Jake shook his head, going back to his email and typing in the address.

"I know that name from somewhere. It has to be this one."

Jake hesitated, staring at the screen blankly. "What are we supposed to say?" 

Charles just shrugged, leaning back to let Jake take charge. He had already been for a while. Jake began typing. He typed only one word into the subject box, nothing else. He clicked send before leaning back. The only word he typed had been "companion?" 

***

They waited around for two whole hours before getting a reply. The sun had almost set, and they both grew hungry, having forgotten to eat anything all day. Jake spent those two hours pacing, becoming more and more jittery, looking out the window and checking that the door was locked every few minutes. Charles spent the two hours sitting on the couch staring into space, lost in deep thought. But he wasn't thinking about Jake's dad, or the email, or the letter, or even Ely Moores; he was thinking about him and Jake. What they meant to each other, what being together would mean, if they were _already_ together... These questions swirled through his brain. Several times he had tried bringing it up to Jake, tried asking what was going on between them. They hadn't really discussed it but it hardly seemed like the time. He knew Jake liked him, Jake had said it to him! They had just kinda fallen into what they were doing now. They sure acted like a couple, always close to each other, comforting each other. Every time Charles was about to ask him, he stopped himself. Now wasn't a good time. It would just stress them out more. They were already dealing with so much, they didn't need to add their relationship-or, not relationship-to the pile of things clouding their minds. 

When they finally did get a reply, all thoughts of the last two hours were pushed away. The computer was their main focus again.

_24 Lawson Avenue._

It was an address. They sat next to each other on the couch yet again, staring at the screen, letting everything they had experienced mull over. They could go to this address if they decided to pursue whatever was going on, or, they could just forget everything. In silence, Jake pulled up google maps and entered the address. The place was close. _Extremely close!_ It was only a 45-minute drive from where they were now. 

"What do we do now?" Charles asked quietly. He desperately wanted all of this to be over with as soon as possible. Someone had almost _died_ for Christ's sake. But he was also filled with undeniable curiosity. Even after all the danger they had endured, he still wanted to know what was going on, as crazy as that may seem. He was the one who hadn't wanted to do anything, to begin with! Over the past 24 hours, he had been going _against_ everything that Jake wanted to do, begrudgingly agreeing when he gave up trying to convince Jake otherwise.

"We should go to this guy," Jake said slowly, coming up with his decision as the words left his mouth. "I want to ask this Randall guy some questions. It seems he'll be the best at answering them." Charles carefully nodded in agreement. 

"It's settled then," Charles said, swallowing heavily, "we're going." 

Jake went back to the email, staring at Randall's name. He contemplated it for a few seconds before huffing angrily.

"Randall Ward. Randall Ward. I _know_ that name from somewhere!" Jake said, opening a new tab and typing in the name. It brought him to the same dog food website. No Facebook accounts, no _any_ accounts. It seemed all this guy had to his name was dog food. After a few minutes of scrolling the page, it dawned on him. He'd heard that name before. When he was very young. It was just before his dad had walked out. Just before his seventh birthday. A memory flashed through his brain. 

_-_

_He lay on the living room floor, coloring something he didn't remember on a piece of paper. His dad had just gotten home from work after days of not being there, only to head straight back out the door._

_"Where are you going, Robert? You just got home. Spend some time with your son for once! He's missed you like crazy," he heard his mother say in the kitchen._

_"I can't, Karen! I promised a buddy I'd meet him as soon as I got off work. We have important stuff to go over," his father said, already heading for the front door._

_"Not that Randall Ward guy again! He's bad news. If you're going to avoid your family, at least do it with someone good. Like Jeff from across the street! I'd rather you drink and play pool with him."_

_"For the last time, I'm not meeting up with Randall to drink and hang out! It's business," Robert said, turning his attention back to his wife. Jake's ears perked up and he listened intently to their conversation._

_"Oh, that's rich. What kind of business could you possibly have? You spend time with Randall so much! God, it's like you're married to him!"_

_Jake couldn't see them, but he knew his father's face had probably hardened by now, jaw locked, eyes staring gravely at Jake's mother as they always did when she made a comment like that._

_"I'm going," he stated in a low, almost calm voice. Jake didn't miss the edge irritation though. His mother sighed in defeat._

_"The least you could do is say goodbye to Jake before you go."_

_"Fine."_

_Jake heard heavy footsteps approaching him. He looked up from his drawing to meet his father's gaze._

_"C'mon, Jacob. Give your old man a hug. I'll be back later." He tried to sound like he was sorry as he spoke to his son as if he'd rather stay home with him, and Jake ate up the animated act. He hadn't developed any detective skills yet to know when someone was lying. So, he stood and gave his dad a big hug, squeezing his waist tightly before looking up._

_"Promise you'll be back later?"_

_"I promise," Robert said, releasing his son and walking to the door. As the door slammed behind him, Jake's mother looked wistfully at her son. She walked over to Jake, kneeling down to pull him into a proper hug, where the parent willingly hugs back._

_"It's okay, Jakey. We're fine without him," she said, wiping the tears from her cheeks before looking at her son. Her beautiful, smart son._

_"He's not gonna' be gone too long. He said he's coming back," young Jake said, looking confusedly at his mother. She gave him a shaky smile._

_"I know he is."Her voice cracked slightly as she spoke. Children were so innocent._

-

Jake shook his head, blinking away the tears welling up in his eyes as he beckoned the memory away. He gulped heavily before speaking. "Randall Ward was a... friend? Of my Dad's..." He thought back to all the other times his dad rushed out the door, going to meet a friend for a drink, a sports game, any other reason. Apparently, it had been a bit more than that. More dangerous at least. 

Another reply dinged on the computer. It was an email.

_Tomorrow, 8:00 a.m. sharp. Only the two of you._

So, this guy had seen them. Knew it wasn't just Jake, but also Charles mixed up in this. Jake closed the computer. "So, I guess we have time."

"We're supposed to go to work tomorrow... Talk to Captain Holt," Charles said, bringing his gaze to Jake. It wasn't him saying they should go to work, no. It was him reminding Jake that if they went to the address, they would be missed somewhere else. And would probably be in way more trouble.

"This is more important. We can deal with Holt and work later. We can just say I'm not feeling well, or something," Jake said with a flat tone. He was no longer excited by everything going on, everything they had discovered. It was a dangerous thing they had been sucked into, and it felt eerily different from any case he had solved. He didn't know what information they were going to get meeting this guy, this 'companion,' and he sure as hell didn't know what they were going to do with it. Would they bring in the precinct, try to take this ring of powerful people down? Discover this conspiracy? He looked at his phone. It was almost midnight. Sleep was probably a good idea before their meeting tomorrow. He stood, looking at Charles.

"We should go to bed. Get well-rested for tomorrow," said Jake, though he wasn't tired one bit. He was tense and nervous, adrenaline in his veins. With what they were doing tomorrow hanging over his head, he wasn't sure if he'd be getting much sleep. Charles looked up at Jake, giving him a strange look. Charles' eyes were tracing his face, inspecting every little detail. "You okay, Charles?" 

Charles stared a bit longer before shaking his head back into focus. He had been mesmerizing Jake's face, locking it into his brain, in case something happened. In case he never got to look at Jake again. His heart felt heavy thinking about losing Jake. He stood and hugged Jake tightly, afraid of letting go, scared that if he did, Jake would slip away forever. Jake clutched back, seeming to read Charles' mind. He stroked the back of Charles' head, trying to offer any sort of comfort that he could. 

"Everything's going to be fine. We'll be fine." Jake pulled back from Charles, pressing a tender kiss to his lips. Charles responded almost immediately, opening his mouth slightly and bring his hands up to cup Jake's face. The kiss was different than the first one they had shared. That one was sloppier, both men trying to show each other how much they'd wanted it over the course of their friendship. They had made out languidly, simply enjoying each other. This time it was more intense, filled with passion and fear. They didn't know what would happen the next day, whether they would ever get to do this again. It was loving and emotional and perfect. Their mouths worked against each other in a comfortable rhythm, slotting together perfectly. They both put so many unspoken words into the kiss, so much meaning and hunger for each other. 

Unpurposefully, their bulges rubbed together, eliciting a moan from both of them. Jake started trailing kisses across Charles' jaw, moving down to suck and tease at his neck. He let his tongue lightly lick against Charles' skin, receiving another moan. As he kissed his neck, Jake's hands went up to work on the buttons of Charles' shirt, making quick work of sliding it off and tossing it to the floor before slinging off his own shirt. He pushed his fingers down Charles' chest, letting his hands explore his body before resting on Charles' hips. Charles wrapped his hands around Jake's waist, pulling him closer so their erections rubbed together again. Jake let out a breathy moan, pulling back from Charles' neck to look him in the eye. He tugged at Charles' belt, looking at him for permission. Charles nodded, pulling Jake into another kiss while his belt came undone and his pants unfastened. When Jake didn't go to pull them down, Charles whined, moving his hands to do it himself. Before he could, Jake made a split-second decision, leaning down to grab Charles by the thighs and pick him up. Surprised but excited, Charles wrapped his legs around Jake's waist as he was carried into Jake's bedroom. They fell on the mattress together, never pulling apart as they moved up, allowing Charles' head to rest on the pillows.

Jake finally shimmied down his pants and underwear, fully pulling them off and tossing them to the floor. Charles let out a loud moan as Jake grabbed his dick and gave it a few experimental tugs.

Once again, Jake began trailing kisses down his body until his face was directly at Charles' erection. He licked the tip, savoring the taste of salty precum before fully taking Charles into his mouth. Charles groaned, reaching his hands down to tangle in Jake's hair as he bobbed his head. 

"Jake!" Charles yelled out in warning before cumming down Jake's throat. Jake choked, trying to swallow everything down before licking his dick clean. He kissed back up Charles' body and huskily whispered in his ear.

"I want to fuck you." 

Charles let out a moan at the thought, nodding his head desperately. Needing no further approval, Jake leaned over to his bedside table, opening the drawer and pulling out a bottle of lube and a condom. He knelt back between Charles' legs, caressing a hand up Charles' thigh. He looked down at Charles, naked and splayed out before him, presenting complete trust. He hurriedly took off his own pants before letting his fingers tease at Charles' hole. Charles responded by moaning and spreading his legs wider. Jake coated his fingers with lube, gently pressing a finger inside. Charles gasped at the slight sting of pain. Jake looked at him, concern washing over his face. 

"Are you okay?" He asked Charles, stopping all movement. Charles nodded, biting his lip as he pushed back onto Jake's finger. The pain slowly turned to pleasure, and after a few minutes, Jake added a second finger. It was long before he added a third. Jake experiment, moving his fingers around before finding what he was looking for. Charles screamed and his whole body shook as Jake hit a bundle of nerves. White, hot pleasure rolled through his body as Jake hit the spot repeatedly. When Jake removed his fingers, Charles whined, immediately silencing himself as he saw Jake tear open the condom and roll it over his cock. Jake squirted more lube on his hand before coating his dick and lining up with Charles' entrance. He slowly pushed the head in, causing both Charles and himself to moan. Carefully, he pushed in all the way, leaning down to catch Charles' mouth with his own. He gradually began thrusting in and out of Charles, making sure not to hurt him. When Charles began moving against him to meet his thrusts, Jake picked up the pace, turning Charles into a moaning and whimpering mess beneath. It wasn't long before he felt the warmth and build up in the pit of his stomach. When Charles clenched around him, he knew he was close to. Jake reached between the two of them and grasped Charles' dick, leaning his head to whisper in his ear again.

"Cum for me, Charles."

At that, Charles shrieked Jake's name before white, hot stickiness came spurting out of him, covering his and Jake's stomach. A few seconds later, Jake came to, giving a few more thrusts before gently pulling out. He ran quickly to the bathroom, throwing out the condom and grabbing a towel. He cleaned them both up, laying with a thump next to Charles. Charles curled into his side, nestling his head in the crook of Jake's neck. He traced tender patterns on Jake's chest. 

"How was that?" Jake asked, pressing a kiss to the top of Charles' head. Charles looked up at him, smiling softly. 

"It was perfect, Jake. Thank you."

They stayed wrapped in each other's arms, relishing in the warmth and comfort of their bodies. They slowly drifted to sleep together, the events of the past few days fading to the back of their minds.

***

They woke in the morning, limbs entangled together, basking in the sunlight that filtered through Jake's window. Jake was the first one to open in his eyes, holding Charles tightly to his chest. He looked at his alarm clock. It was 6:20 a.m. He calculated how long it would take to get ready and how long to get there. It would take 45 minutes to get there, and an extra 10 for New York traffic, so, they would need to leave by 7:05. It should take them at _least_ 30 minutes to have breakfast and get ready. He only had 15 minutes in bed with Charles, 14 if you take away the minute he spent doing the math in his head. 

Jake was spooning Charles, letting his hand roam across Charles' chest and stomach. He leaned his head forward, nuzzling into the base of Charles' neck and placing a soft kiss. Charles stirred slightly before turning to face Jake, eyes meeting each other before he buried himself in Jake's chest, huddling against him for warmth. They stayed cuddled together for the rest of their short time, enjoying the blissful silence. Only when Jake saw that it was 6:35 did he gently shake Charles who had fallen back asleep.

"We need to get ready to go," he whispered quietly into Charles' ear. Charles grunted in acknowledgment, moving to sit up. He yawned and stretched, a determined look dawning over the sleepy expression that had been on his face. They got ready in comfortable silence, moving around the apartment with quick purpose. They each took a brisk shower. Charles whipped up scrambled eggs while Jake made coffee. They dressed, each of them remembering to bring their guns and charged phones. They brought their badges but decided it would be best if they were discreetly hidden. They were out the door by 7:03, speed walking to Jake's car. 

If they had decided to drop everything, what with Jake's dad, they would be heading to work. Instead, Jake turned and drove almost the opposite way of the precinct, trying his best to avoid traffic. Charles typed with address into the GPS on his phone and called out when Jake needed to take a turn. Other than that, they were mostly quiet for the entire drive. When they were only a few minutes away, Charles remembered something and reached into his jacket pocket. He pulled out the envelope that had been left outside the door of Jake's apartment. He had almost forgotten he had it. 

"Should we just open this now?" he asked Jake, staring curiously at the letter.

"Sure," Jake responded, sounding disinterested. He had been more excited about it earlier, but now it was at the back of his mind, least of his problems. Unknowingly, it was actually one of his biggest.

Charles opened the envelope and took out a small folded piece of paper. When he unfolded it, something small fell out onto his lap. When he looked down, he almost didn't see it, the only confirmation of its presence being Charles had felt it land. He spotted it, a tiny black object with a blinking red light. He inhaled sharply, realizing what it was. It was a tiny tracker. Charles recognized it as soon as he saw it. They sometimes used it for a case when the suspect didn't have a phone. He looked over at Jake with wide, terrified eyes.

"Jake. They've been _tracking_ us. I've been carrying it around in my pocket the _entire_ time!"

Jake looked at the clock on his dashboard. It was 7:52. The GPS announced they were only 4 minutes away. He abruptly stopped the car before fully turning to face Charles. He took the tracker from Charles, gawking at it in disbelief before snatching the paper Charles still held in his hand. There was one sentence scrawled in sloppy handwriting across the page. 

_How long did it take for you to realize?_

The more he read the words, the more they seemed to taunt him. He ripped the paper in frustration, barely holding back a scream of rage. He flung open the car door, squeezing the tracker tightly in his hand. He scanned the side of the street before finding what he was looking for. Once he found it, he walked over. He flung the tracker down the sewer grate, wiping his hands together with finality. He got back into the car, slamming the door before continuing to drive. It took him a while to notice that Charles was saying something.

"What?" It came out harsher than he intended.

"I said I'm sorry. It's my fault. I said we shouldn't open the letter," Charles said, looking guiltily at his feet. Jake's expression softened, and he let out a long sigh.

"It's not your fault, Charles. You didn't know it was..." he trailed off, face puzzling as he remembered something. "Wait... Didn't... Didn't the document say that it was supposed to be a letter from my Dad? He said his 'companion' was dropping it off." Charles sat up straighter as he got what Jake was saying. 

"Then where-" but Charles didn't get to finish his sentence.

***

They had been so immersed in their conversation that they hadn't noticed the big black SUV creeping up behind them. It hit the back of their car at a high, ramming speed, causing them to lurch forwards in their seats. They swerved as Jake lost control of the wheel. They were heading straight for a telephone pole when Jake grabbed the wheel and steered out of the way. Just as he thought they were safe, he looked in the review mirror to see the SUV coming at them again, picking up speed. Before he could prevent it, the SUV hit them again, a _lot_ harder than last time. They skidded off the road, the car rolling a few times before they landed with a bang in a ditch. 

Jake was barely conscious as he looked over at Charles, unaware that they were now upside down. He could see blood trickling down from a gash on Charles' forehead. His eyes were closed and for a few horrifying seconds, he thought that Charles might be dead. He cursed himself. The airbags hadn't gone off. They didn't work. Before he passed out, Jake saw in the cracked glass of the review mirror a team of men dressed in black outfits marching to the car, guns, and rope at the ready. As his waking mind slipped away, Jake had only one thought.

_I'm sorry, Charles. This is all my fault._

***

Charles woke an unknown amount of time later, bleary-eyed and with a splitting headache. He tried opening his eyes but found he was blindfolded. His mind was foggy, but he remembered being in a car with Jake until suddenly everything had gone black. He tried moving his arms but couldn't. When he tried again, he felt something tough rubbing his wrists painfully. He winced as the rope dug into his skin. He felt himself drifting away again and he let the gentle movement of whatever vehicle he was in lull him to sleep. If he hadn't been in pain or felt so _exhausted_ he might have tried a little more to figure out his situation. He might have noticed the needle going into his arm after he had moved, but his mind and body had felt too numb.

***

Jake also woke but was less disoriented than Charles had been. He was able to feel and take in the rocking, floaty movements of where they were. He couldn't see, but he had a feeling they were in a boat. A very slow boat for that matter. There was excruciating pain in his abdomen where he was almost a hundred percent sure he had broken some ribs from the impact of the hit and his seatbelt. He was lying on his side with his arms tied behind his back. A sudden bump of the possible boat caused bolts of pain to shoot through his shoulder. Though his thoughts were more organized than Charles' he was still shocked and dazed, surely not having the most appropriate reaction. A sharp turn made him roll across whatever surface he was on before he slammed into a wall, head knocking against it. He grunted at the new injury when he heard a muffled laugh somewhere close to him. Like the person was trying to hide their presence. He moved his head frantically as if he could spot whoever it was through his blindfold when something stung his arm. He thought at first it might have been a bee until the sting stayed and he felt something being injected into his bloodstream. He tried calling out an objection but stopped when his mind clouded over and he fell unconscious.

***

Over the span of what could have been hours, days-even weeks!- Jake and Charles found themselves waking several times only to feel the slip of a needle and the familiarness of drugged sleep. The third time Jake woke, he was smart enough to stay still and quiet. He could hear a conversation going on between two people, presumable keeping guard. First, he heard a deep, gruff voice with a slight southern tang to it.

"Why do we have to keep watch over both of 'em? I thought we just need' the son." Next, a stern female voice responded, clearly irritated by the owner of the gruff voice.

"We have direct orders to keep both of them. This extra one can be helpful, used as leverage. I was told they have a relationship, and we can use that to our advantage."

"He'd be more useful if we cut 'em up and fed 'em to the sharks," the gruff voice muttered under his breath. The women scoffed, but there was a hint of amusement to it. Jake didn't think it was funny. He began panicking. Where are they gonna hurt Charles to get information out of him? What could he possibly know that they would want? If they so much as lay a hand on Charles, Jake was going to tear them to threads and he would take his time. Really show them who he was messing with. Jake heard them talking again.

"Shouldn' the drugs be wearin' off again? It's been about an hour or so," the man said, standing up and walking over to Jake. As he heard the footsteps getting closer, Jake tensed, not sure what to expect. What he didn't expect was a sharp kick to his ribs. He groaned. The pain in his ribs had just started to mellow out, turning to something dull but manageable. The man laughed and kneeled down next to Jake. Through clenched teeth, Jake was able to spit out a shaky sentence. He was going for a calm and cool tone but ended up sounding weak and scared, stuttering over almost every word.

"D-don't h-h-hurt him." He earned another laugh from the southern bastard. 

"Don't worry. We're not gonna' hurt your little boyfriend. Not yet anyway." The man's voice darkened to something threatening, much different from his annoyed banter from earlier. Jake felt the needle once again, this time trying to stay awake. As sound and all his other senses faded, he heard the man's terrible laugh, a laugh that would haunt his nightmares for years to come. If he even survived.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope y'all liked it! The fourth chapter should be out next week. Do you guys have an recommendations for some long Sabriel fics? I've been having trouble finding some. Anyway, please please please comment! I like responding, and I've only gotten a few chances to do so. Make some noise!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Didn't expect to finish this chapter so quickly. It gets a bit gruesome in this chapter, so heads up! I'm not really sure what's going to happen next or how long this is going to end up being. I have an ending in mind, but then this would only be a few more chapters. I started watching criminal minds, so maybe I'll come up with a story for that. I'm totally obsessed with it! All I can say is Reed trying to use chopsticks.

The next time Jake woke from his drugged sleep, he found himself sitting up. When he blinked his eyes open his vision wasn't blocked by a blindfold covering his eyes. He looked around the room he was in confusion. There was a horribly bright light above his head making it hard to focus. He was sitting in a chair, wrists tied to the arms. Once his eyes got more used to the light, he took in the room. It was like the interrogation room at the precinct, only smaller, and there didn't seem to be any one-way glass. He was in the middle of the room, a wooden table in front of him. He could still feel the rocking of the boat, only it was more intense now. He didn't notice it earlier, but now he could feel the movement of the waves more. He was sure he was alone in the room, though he couldn't see behind him. It was deathly quiet except for the faint sound of the ocean outside. He wondered how big the boat was. Maybe while he was knocked out, they had moved him to a different one. 

His senses were slowly coming back to him and he again noticed the throbbing pain in his ribs and head. His arms were sore where he had repeatedly been stuck with needles. His stomach grumbled and ached with hunger. How long had it been? It had definitely been a while because he was starving and thirsty and _really_ needed to go to the bathroom. He heard thudding footsteps from somewhere outside the room and he tensed with alertness. His mind was a lot clearer and more awake than the other time he'd woken up. Somewhere behind him, a door creaked open, and now the footsteps were in the room. He tried craning his neck back to see who it was but was met with a sharp slap to the back of his head, a yelp forcing its way out of his mouth. He didn't want to show that he was scared or panicking, but he was absolutely _terrified._ Things had truly taken a turn for the worse. A tall, broad shoulder man walked to the other side of the table and sat in a chair opposite of Jake. His face was blank, not even a shadow of coldness or hostility. His face was sharp, his jaw defined. He had piercing blue eyes and jet black air. For some reason, he exuded a sense of calmness and relaxation. He set a briefcase on the table in between them. Jake hadn't noticed him carrying anything in. 

"Now here's how it's going to go, Mr. Peralta," the man said, opening the briefcase to reveal an array of knives, all with different lengths and sharpness to them. "You're going to tell me everything you know about what your father was planning to do and who you were going to see, or I'm gonna' start cutting." Jake was surprised by the casualness of his voice, almost as if they were discussing the weather. His voice was deep and smooth, like honey, and Jake found himself slightly attracted to him. Jake was disgusted with himself. He stared at the knives, nodding apprehensively. Jake brought his gaze up to the man and saw a slight flicker of disappointment in his eyes. He was _hoping_ to get to cut him, to torture information out of him. He was still pretty. Jake found himself wanting to ask the guy his name but thought better of it. 

"Okay, then. Let's start. Who were you going to meet?"

Jake waited a few seconds before responding, weighing his choices in his head. He could spill everything he knew so far and hopefully, _hopefully!_ he would be released. But would they let him go? Or would they kill him either way? And what about Charles? He could be dead already, Jake none the wiser. The man bounced his leg impatiently, though he didn't push Jake to speak. He knew Jake would tell him. Too much was at stake. 

"We were going to meet a friend of my Dad's. Randall Ward." Jake finally said, trying his best to sound steady, and not at all like he was freaking out. He pushed his luck and asked his own question. This time when he spoke, there was a slight waver to his voice. "Where's Charles?"

"He's fine," the man answered indifferently, "answer my questions and you get to see him."

Jake sighed with relief. There was a growing fear in his gut that they had killed him, tossed him to the sharks like the southern gentlemen had so graciously put it. 

"How much did your father tell you about his involvement with..." the man hesitated, not sure if Jake knew who they were or what they did, "us?"

"He left me a letter. He said he was part of a group of powerful people all around the world and that he delivered stuff for them. He was planning on telling the authorities."

The man chuckled silently. "A misfortunate mistake many have made. Do you know what you were going to discuss with Randall Ward?"

"No."

"Do you know why exactly your father sent you to speak with him?"

"No-wait, how did you know that? I never said we were sent."

"We hacked into your computer."

"Then why are you asking me all these questions if you already know the answers to them," Jake said, exasperated. A small smile tugged at the corner of the man's mouth.

"Because we want to see how easily you can spill your guts," he stated. Over the next thirty minutes, the man asked Jake about everything that had happened in the last few days. Not once did he have to use his knives to extract any information. Jake was baffled by it all but humored the man anyways. When he was close to finishing his story, the door banged open, startling Jake and even the man across from him. Jake saw the expressionless facade of the man fade away to something that contained fear. _Fear._ Whoever had just entered the room, the man with the briefcase of _knives_ was afraid of them. A loud, thundering voice erupted behind Jake.

"Get out McCoy! This isn't working. I'll question him myself. Leave the weapons." 

The man scampered, _scampered,_ out of the room like a rat. The new person took his place in the vacated chair. He was big and burly, _very_ muscular, with eyes that bored fiercely into Jake's sole. Even though he was shorter than blue eyes, Jake could see why he was scared of him. He was bald, and the veins were visible on his neck, popping out red and dark. He didn't speak like he was having a friendly chat with Jake, and he _definitely_ was trying to keep his emotions in check. This man was very angry, and Jake knew he was gonna be incredibly impatient. He wasn't sure what else they wanted to know. He had told the other guy everything. He would much rather have spoken to the other guy with a calm and collected presence, despite the knives, and his obvious hope in using them. It also helped that he had been handsome. _Wow, look at me, developing Stockholm syndrome._ This new guy looked like a bull ready to charge.

"Now then," he said with a dangerously low voice, a manic grin spreading across his face. "What are you not telling us?"

Jake stared into the man's intense eyes, his mouth going dry. What did they think he knew?

"I-I don't kn-know? I told everything I know," Jake swallowed heavily, eyes widening in confusion. God, he probably looked like a wounded animal!

The man tsked at him, letting his fingers trace over one at the knives. 

"Don't lie to me, sweetheart. I know you were told more. I know that you know more about your father's plans. So just tell me, and you get to keep all your fingers!" he drawled, clearly enjoying Jake's torment. Jake shook his head wildly, staring fearfully at the knives. 

"I swear I don't know! I told everything to the other guy. Just ask him!" 

The man's expression darkened, annoyed that he was getting nowhere. He stood abruptly from his chair, grabbing a knife and walking over behind Jake. He leaned over Jake's shoulder, breathing hotly against his neck. He brought the knife to one of Jake's tied down hands and positioned it above his pinky finger, letting it hover just above the skin. 

"Oh, but I _know_ you know more. You see, I had the pleasure of going over your father's emails, all of which were addressed to someone named 'Sherlock.' Now, that's your middle name, isn't it? And sadly, I was only able to get through two of them before they auto-deleted themselves. They were set on a timer I think. I didn't get much, but I saw plans your dad had... Somewhere, he is-or was-gathering incriminating evidence to bring our whole operation down. We can't let that getting out, now can we? So," he paused, applying more pressure to Jake's hand, "where. Is. He. Hiding. It." 

Jake was now shaking, tears threatening to spill from his eyes. He was trying to stay as tough and composed as he could, but he was seconds from losing a finger, and he had no idea what the mand was talking about. He had no back and forth emails with his father talking about "bring down an operation." 

"I don't know. He must have been emailing someone else! Please, believe me, _I don't know!"_ Jake pleaded, voice growing hoarse. 

"Wrong answer," the man whispered sweetly in his ear before driving the knife down into Jake's pinky finger. Pain shot up Jake's arm, blood spurting from his dismembered hand. He screamed as the knife was brought down again, not quite severing his finger. He had chosen a dull knife, and it was taking an excruciatingly long time to get the job done. Jake was sure he did it on purpose. In one final swoop of the knife, Jake's finger was now entirely detached from his hand, falling to the floor. Blood gushed from the open wound, staining the arm of the chair and dripping onto Jake's lap. Jake hacked out dry sobs, shuddering as he looked at his hand missing a finger. He felt woozy, definitely close to passing out, and he was sure he was as pale as a ghost. The man drew back from his uncomfortable closeness to Jake, walking back around the table and sitting in his chair. Jake slumped in his chair, refusing to look him in the eyes. Before the man could say anything, Jake spoke, desperation in his voice. He probably sounded so pathetic, but he didn't care.

"Please, _please! I don't know anything... I don't KNOW!"_

The man sighed disappointingly like Jake was a child who just failed his math exam. 

"Aren't we past this? The more you lie, the more cutting is gonna' happen."

Jake was barely below screaming. " _Hook me up to a lie detector! Give me truth serum! You won't get anything! I don't know anything! Just PLEASE don't cut me again! You fucking psychopath, I'm telling the truth!"_

Jake shouldn't have sworn at him. Shouldn't have called him a psychopath. As soon as he finished speaking, the man stood up and slapped Jake harshly across the face. It startled him, ending his rambling and even his tears. The man leaned across the table, grabbing Jake around the neck with a strong hand and forcing Jake to look at him. Jake let out a choked gasp as his airway was cut off. He got his face so close, Jake thought he was going to kiss him for a second. 

"You should show me some respect, boy. Or you won't be the next one to get cut. Although, I think truth serum might be a good idea. Thanks for that," he said, speaking in a cool, authoritative tone. Jake's vision was starting to go black, his throat making a guttural sound as the hand around it tightened. Just as he thought he was going to pass out, his throat was released. He inhaled sharply, taking in jagged breaths. 

"Now sit tight, darling. I'll be back shortly."

With one final punch to Jake's face, making the slap feel like a gesture of endearment, the man left the room, slamming the door behind him.

***

When Charles woke up, he found himself in a similar room. He was also tied to a chair, a table in front of him. The only difference was that there was a computer open in front of him. As his gaze and mind focused, get realized what was playing on the screen. It was a live feed of Jake in his own room. He tried yelling at Jake through the screen only to find his mouth was gagged, a bandanna tied around his head. He thrashed around, trying to release himself from the chair, but only succeeding to get the rope to dig into his wrists. He froze as he saw a man enter Jake's room and sit opposite a now awake Jake. The stranger placed a briefcase on the table and began speaking to Jake. The man didn't look hostile like he would hurt Jake for just the sake of it. He was also nice looking, easy on the eyes. He could barely hear their conversation, but with some straining, he got the general gist of it. Jake explained the details of the past three days or so, answering all the questions that were asked of him. The man hadn't threatened him a second time, accepting all of Jake's very true answers. Charles sighed, a wave of relief flowing over him. If Jake told the truth-which he was-than they should be fine. The relief was soon swept away when a more enraged man entered the room, displeased at the interrogation. 

Charles saw him yell at the man in the chair to leave before taking his place. Charles' eyes widened in horror as he spoke, taking on a more dangerous aura, making it clear he wouldn't believe anything Jake said. He watched as he went on to say that he knew Jake knew more than he was letting on, and when Jake frantically denied everything, Charles watched as the man grabbed a knife and walked behind Jake. Charles tried desperately to look away but found he couldn't take his eyes off the screen. He watched as he saw Jake, his best friend, his _lover,_ tried wildly convincing the man that he actually _didn't_ know anything. He watched in dismay as the man whispered something unintelligible in Jake's ear before bringing the knife down on Jake's hand. Charles didn't know what happened next because he fainted. 

***

Jake sat in the room for what felt like hours, the room spinning wildly before him. He thought he was going to fall asleep again when the door slammed opened, the man re-entering the room. Jake flinched as he came closer, but he continued past him, dropping another case on the table. He opened it, pulling out a syringe and a bottle of a mysterious liquid.

"What is that?" Jake asked in a quiet voice. The man smiled down at him, unscrewing the bottle.

"It's something that's gonna' make you talk. That's all you need to know." He began humming to himself as he filled the syringe with the "truth serum." Jake prepared himself for the sting of the needle but was surprised when the man put the needle on the table and took out a bottle of what was obviously hydrogen peroxide and bandages. He knelt beside Jake and began working on wrapping up the stump where Jake's finger used to be.

"W-what are you doing?" Jake asked, startled by this act of kindness. 

"We need to keep you conscious and alive, the boss says," the man responded nonchalantly. "Kind of like 'The Princess Bride.'" 

Jake shuddered at the metaphor. It implied something worse was to come. When the man finished wrapping up Jake's finger, he picked the syringe back up from the table, positioning the needle to go into Jake's arm.

"Ready, cupcake?" Before Jake could respond the needle was stuck into his arm. It was more painful than the injections that simply put him to sleep, and Jake winced.

It was only about 30-40 seconds before Jake found himself relaxing. The previous tenseness of his body faded away and a high feeling glossed his brain. His vision warped slightly and when he shifted the movements felt slow and long. He looked as the man sat back down in front of him and he looked so far away to Jake. 

"Now. Let's start again, shall we?" When the man spoke it was like Jake was hearing him down a long hallway and through a closed door. He barely processed the words being said. "What do you know about your dad's involvement with us?" Jake thought hard of what he knew about his dad. Well, he remembered his dad was a pilot. Was this man asking about that? No, no, something else. Jake remembered his father constantly leaving to meet up with someone. The effort took to convert the thoughts into words felt excruciatingly long, but the man seemed patient as he waited for Jake's answer. 

"Dad was always...leaving. Meeting up... with someone. Never really... saw him," Jake mumbled out. His tongue felt heavy and sluggish in his mouth.

"How much did he tell you about us?"

Jake scrunched his brow as he concentrated hard. His dad told him something about it, didn't he? Not verbally. 

"A letter... He left a letter. Talked about... Randall?" He responded, his answer almost like a question when he looked at the man. He could see the man's face changed to an annoyed expression, but just barely. 

"We already know about the letter, Jake. What else did he say? Where is he hiding his plans?" 

Jake was becoming confused by the questions. He didn't know what this man was talking about. He was pretty sure he only knew about the letter. He searched through his brain, looking for information that would please the man but came up with nothing. 

"No, that's it. The letter. What was in the letter, that's what I know." Jake shook his head in frustration. This man wasn't _getting_ it. Jake didn't know anything, and drugs wouldn't change it. Jake flinched back as the man jumped from his chair, the legs scraping loudly against the floor. He leaned towards Jake, hands planted firmly on the table.

"STOP LYING!" he shouted, pushing the table forward, pushing Jake's chair, tilting him back dangerously. 

"M' not lying. I can't lie." 

The man gave a final scream of rage before giving the table a shove and knocking Jake's chair back fully, sending him crashing to the ground. Jake's head cracked against the floor. The back of his head throbbed as he blinked open his eyes. The last thing he saw before being completely knocked out was the man walk angrily past him and leave the room, slamming the door as he left.

***

Charles blinked his eyes open, a familiar smell invading his nose. The smell made his stomach rumble as he sniffed deeply, inhaling the wonderful aroma. On the table, there was a plate of food. There was a generous scoop of shepherd's pie and a piece of a baguette and Charles' mouth watered at the sight. He was so invested in the sight of the food that he didn't notice that someone had entered the room until someone threw down a spoon in front of him and sat in a chair across from him. His eyes flew to the man on the other side of the table. He recognized him as the first guy from the video with Jake. _Jake._

"Where's Jake?" Charles asked with a hoarse voice after not using it for hours. The man smirked in response, drumming his fingers on his legs.

"Oh, he's just fine! Having some trouble getting him to cooperate, but we'll find something around that eventually."

Charles glared at him, threatening the man with his eyes. If they did anything, _anything,_ to hurt Jake-more than they already did, cutting his finger off and what not- he would _slaughter_ every last one of them. Venom dripping from his voice, Charles spat at the man with what little confidence he had. "What have you done to him?"

The man gave him an innocent look. "Me? I haven't done anything to him. Can't say the same about Tony. He has a bit of a temper."

Charles lurched forward in his chair, trying to fling himself at the man. All he did was manage to scooch his chair forward and bang it against the table. "I'll kill you. I swear to _God_ I'll kill you!" Charles whispered dangerously, still trying to get closer. The man put his hands up, an action saying _alright, I believe you!_

"Just calm down there, buddy! You'll both be fine if you tell us what we need to know. Now, we've realized we can't get the information we want from you with the tactics we've been taking, so we're taking a break until we get to the boss. Now, you must be hungry! It's been a long trip."

Charles eyed the food wearily. He _was_ starving, but the food could be poisoned for all he knew. The man seemed to read his mind.

"We haven't done anything to the food. It's perfectly safe to eat. Though we've run into a bit of a dilemma. The crew was extra hungry, so this is the last portion we have. So, I need you to decide whether _you're_ gonna eat or if _Jake's_ gonna eat."

Charles stared at the man in disbelief. One of them was going to have to starve and wait for the next meal. But the portion was so _big!_

"Can't we split it?" Charles asked hopefully. The man shook his head, giving a shrug. 

"Sorry. I'm under direct orders to feed only one of you. Clocks a tickin'. Foods getting cold." 

Charles looked at him with all the hate he could muster from his tired body. "What kind of sick game is this?" The man just shrugged his shoulders again, not speaking. Charles stared at the food. He was hungry. So, so, _so_ hungry! But Jake... Jake also needed to eat. And he lost a _finger!_ And from what else the man said, other stuff happened too. After a few seconds of thinking, he reached a decision. 

"Give it to Jake."

The man smiled, standing, and picking up the plate. "Perfect. I'll see you later, Charles."

Charles shuddered when the man addressed by name for the first time. He wondered what the man picked up on him from his decision. What he was trying to read. Were they trying to see how much he and Jake cared for each other? Their weakness for each other? And how they could use that to their advantage? Charles looked hopelessly to the ground, his mind going over all the possibilities for what was in store for them.

***

When Jake was conscious again, he was sitting back up from the ground, a woman across from him. She was older, late 40's, a stern and passive face set into what Jake was sure was a permanent scowl. She had brown hair that was just starting to grey and authoritative but tired eyes were looking at him through a pair of sunglasses. Jake was almost sure she had some sort of military background. 

"Morning, sunshine." When she spoke, Jake recognized her voice as the one from before, when he was blindfolded and laying on the floor. When he ripped his gaze from her, there was a plate of food sitting on the table. His stomach growled loudly, sounding like a dying whale. "You hungry?" she said in a bored voice. Jake nodded, noticing she was holding a spoon in her hand. She leaned forward, scooping up a lump of the shepherd's pie and bringing it to his face. He opened his mouth hesitantly but let her feed him anyways. He refrained from moaning at the incredible flavor, seeing the situation was inappropriate. When she went to rip a piece of the baguette for him, Jake saw it as his chance to speak to her. 

"Where is Charles? Is he okay?" 

She stopped for a second before continuing to feed him. "I don't know."

Jake swallowed quickly so he could speak before more food was in his mouth. "What do you mean?"

"I mean," she said, getting more pie on the spoon, "that I'm not in charge of him. I guarded him for a while before he was taken into a room. I haven't seen him in a few hours. Someone else is dealing with him." She averted her gaze from him, solely focusing on feeding him. Jake took this as a signal that she wouldn't be answering any more questions. As he ate, he fully contemplated their situation for the first time without any interruptions or drugs clouding his judgment. He knew for a fact that they had been kidnapped by the same people his dad worked for, and that they thought Jake knew more than he was letting on. He reverently hoped that they wouldn't try and torture anything else out of him. He was bruised and battered, missing a finger, and had a possible concussion from hitting his head so hard on the floor. They had given him a god damn truth serum, and if they still thought he was hiding something from them, then Jake knew he probably wouldn't survive. If they continued hurting him, trying to extract information he didn't have then there was no hope. Maybe he could convince them to let Charles go and just keep him, but he knew that option didn't really have a chance. Charles would go to the police immediately, try and rescue Jake. He wished he had left this all alone. Only when they had started getting more involved with the case, trying to find out his dad's death, had they picked up on them and captured them. After minutes of being lost in deep thought, Jake realized that the woman had left, taking the food with her. Suddenly, she entered again, carrying a gun this time. She quietly assessed him before speaking.

"I'm going to untie you and bring you to the bathroom. If you try anything funny, I will shoot you. Got it?" Jake nodded, gulping heavily. 

"Fantastic," she said, pulling a knife out as she knelt beside him, keeping the gun trained at his chest with one hand while the other worked on cutting the rope. When she was done, she stood and threw something at him.

"Tie that around your eyes. You're going to keep your arms above your head where I can seem 'em." Jake listen, tying the blindfold around his head and putting his hands up. She pressed the gun in between his shoulder blades, nudging him towards the door. She reached around to open it before herding him out into what Jake was sure was a hallway. It was a short walk before she stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. She opened the door and walked into the room with him. 

"You can take off the blindfold now." 

He did, eyeing the small bathroom they were in. All it had was a toilet and a sink with a small cabinet above it. He went to the toilet, stopping in front of it and turning to look at her, eyeing her to give him some privacy.

"Sorry kid. Gotta' keep my eyes on you in case you try something."

Jake huffed, zipping open in his jeans and trying to ignore the presence of someone watching him take a piss. When he was done, he stood in front of the sink, quickly washing his hands and looking at himself in the mirror on the cabinet. He looked awful. He had dark bags under his eyes and he was ghostly pale. He figured he looked a little better after eating something, but not by much. His hair was messy and a greenish-yellow bruise stained his cheek. His neck was also bruised from where the angry man had choked him. He risked a quick drink from the sink before turning back to the woman. She handed him the blindfold and led him back out into the hallway. On their way back, he noticed the distance was longer. They were going to a different room. His curiosity built as she opened a door and pushed him in with the gun. When he took the blindfold off, he was in a different room with a rickety bed crammed in the corner. He turned to ask her something, but she was already outside the room, locking the door with a click. He desperately wanted to know where Charles was, ask if he could possibly see him. 

He sat on the bed, resting his elbows on his knees, and putting his face in his hands. His body was sore from all of his inflicted injuries and a pounding headache was threatening its way into his head. Though his body was tired, his mind wasn't after all those chunks of time being unconscious. He laid down, staring up at the swinging light bulb hanging on the ceiling, wishing this were all some terribly long nightmare that he would soon wake up from. 

***

Jake still lay staring at the ceiling when the door to his new room opened and Charles was shoved in, falling to the floor from the excessive force. Jake hastily sprang up and knelt beside him, eyes scanning his body for any injuries. Charles was on his knees as well, hands on the floor supporting him from completely collapsing. Jake gingerly helped him from the floor and laid him down on the small bed. 

"Are you okay?" Jake asked, hands caressing Charles' face. Charles smiled at him weakly, hand coming up to cup the hand on his face. 

"I'm fine. Are _you_ okay?" Charles said, directing the question back to him. Jake nodded, the happy smile wavering on his face as tears began lightly streaming from his eyes. 

"How did we get so caught up in this?" A broken laugh escaped Jake's mouth. 

"It's my fault," Charles whispered, "I should have tried to stop you... I shouldn't have given up on trying to convince you so easily." Charles was also crying now, finally breaking apart now that he was with Jake. Jake shook his head harshly, taking Charles' face in both his hands. 

"Don't say that. It's my fault. It was _my_ idea to start digging. It was _my_ idea to keep going, even when it started getting dangerous. Even when I almost got someone killed! Please, don't blame yourself. This is all on me. God, you should hate me right now." Jake took his hands away, wiping the tears that were falling more excessively. He began picking at the bandaging around his finger, chewing at his lip and avoiding Charles' gaze. Charles sat up, forcing Jake to look at him.

"Hey. It wasn't _your_ fault that these people decided to kidnap us. It's not _your_ fault that your Dad pushed you to figure this all out! He's the one who got messed up in this and selfishly dragged you into it. You had no idea this would happen, so don't blame yourself. If you're going to blame anyone, blame the bastards who ran us off the road and put us on a boat taking us _god_ knows where. Okay?" 

Jake nodded, staring into Charles' deep, caring eyes. It was selfish, but he was sort of glad that Charles got kidnapped with him. He didn't think he would be able to make it without him. It was probably too early to say it, but Jake wasn't sure they would make it for him to say it at a more appropriate time. 

"I love you." 

Charles gave him a watery smile, pulling Jake down to lay on him. He encircled Jake's waist, holding him close to his chest. He pressed a kiss to the top of Jake's head as Jake nuzzled his face in Charles' neck.

"I love you too."

They fell asleep wrapped up together, smiles spread lightly on their faces as they forgot all about their current situation. They slept in blissful ignorance as they only let themselves think about how much they cared for and loved the other, letting the events of the last week wash away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so happy with this chapter! It was like I was reading the story as I wrote and got super invested in it! That's why I finished it so much quicker than the other chapters. Even I wasn't sure what was going to happen next. I might take a while getting the next chapter out. I'm going to busy this week and next, and I'm going away this weekend, so sorry if I don't post anything for a while. Hope you're enjoying the story so far! Please be LOUD people! I like responding to comments.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The fifth chapter done, ah hah hah! This one took longer because I just didn't feel like writing, but I hope not too long. The next one might take longer because I'm not 100% sure what to do next, but it will come to me as I go. That's what happened with this chapter. Anyways, enjoy!

Jake and Charles woke to a red light flashing somewhere outside their room and sirens blaring. The boat was rocking ferociously, thunder cracking and an intense drumming of rain. The boat suddenly lurched, tumbling Jake and Charles onto the floor, limbs flailing and bodies hitting against each other. Jake landed heavily on top of Charles, Charles grunting at the impact. Outside in the hallway, they could hear people frantically yelling at each other and stumbling around. Jake quickly stood up, offering a hand and pulling Charles to his feet. The door handle to their room rattled as someone attempted to enter. They backed their way against the wall farthest from the door. Someone jumbled with the lock for a few more seconds before the door was flung open. It was the same woman who had fed Jake and brought him to the room.

"What's going on?" Jake asked, grabbing onto Charles' shoulder for support when the boat lurched again. Instead of answering, she pointed to a small, circular window above the head of the bed that both men hadn't noticed when first entering the room. Outside, black, rumbling clouds loomed overhead, filling the entire sky. Giant, 10-foot waves rolled across the ocean, crashing into the boat. Lightning struck all around and the wind blew intensely, hitting the boat from all sides. The rain was coming down in heavy buckets, sounding like bullets when they came into contact with the boat. A huge wave came at them and the boat floated over it, tilting dangerously, sending Charles and Jake falling to the floor and rolling towards the door. The only thing keeping them from flying through the door was the woman who still stood at the threshold, keeping herself upright with the door frame.

"Get on your feet, boys! We gotta’ get outa’ here!" she shouted over a particularly loud rumble of thunder. They scrambled up to a standing position and followed her out into the hallway. They walked down, using the walls to keep themselves steady. There were a few others in the hallway, but they didn't pay any attention to the two hostages as they focused on saving themselves. She opened a door on the right of the hallway and disappeared inside the room. They were about to go in too before she quickly reappeared, holding three life jackets and a large first aid kit. She shoved a life jacket at each of them before putting one on for herself. Jake and Charles followed her lead, throwing on the jackets quickly. "This way," she said, dragging them to another door at the end of the hallway. Her hand hovered over the handle before pausing to look at them. "Prepare yourselves. It's windy out there, and I can't have you flying off the boat. Keep low and follow me."

Jake looked at her quizzically before speaking. "Why are you helping us? Shouldn't you be saving your own people?" She huffed impatiently, fumbling in the left pocket of her jeans for something. She found whatever she was looking for and pulled it out. She held it in front of their faces, leaving them eyes wide and mouths open. It was an FBI identification card with her face on it.

"You're FBI?" Charles asked in disbelief. She rolled her eyes, stuffing the ID back in her pocket.

"Yes. I'll explain more later once I save your asses. Now come on, before this boat sinks. And close your mouths, you look like fish." she said before throwing open the door. They were hit with a strong gust of wind, smelling like the salty ocean and rain. They staggered out onto the main deck of the boat. It was larger than what Charles thought and less pirate ship looking and more like a yacht or rich people party boat. It was freezing cold, and they were all soaked after just a few seconds of being out in the storm. The lightning striking the ocean surrounding them was the only light they had, and when there was none, they were left in almost complete darkness, the clouds blocking any chance of sunlight. If it was even day, that is. Jake and Charles hunched over, grabbing onto each other for stability as they followed the women across the boat. She ran to the edge, grabbing the railing and motioning for them to follow. Jake and Charles stopped as they eyed the edge fearfully.

 _"Are you crazy?!?!_ _We'll fall off!_ " Jake shouted, barely being heard over the sound of the storm. She pointed to somewhere out in the water. Wait. No. Somewhere above the water. They stumbled to the railing, squinting out in the distance, trying to spot what she wanted them to see. Suddenly, lightning struck close by, the sound of thunder booming, causing their ears to ring. Thought it startled them, and the sound was deafening, the lighting illuminated what she was pointing at. A helicopter was coming towards them, struggling to stay in the air. 

_"Who is that?"_ Charles yelled.

 _"I was able to radio for help! It's the American police, or FBI, or something!"_ Just as she finished speaking, the helicopter got closer and someone leaned out the door, dropping the ladder with a speaker in hand. 

_"Detectives Collins, Peralta, and Boyle. Jump in the water and please make your way to the ladder. We're taking you home."_

_"Are you serious? We can't jump in there! We'll drown!"_ Charles said, looking at Jake with wild, frantic eyes. The speaker sounded again.

 _"Please jump in the water and climb the ladder. Before the storm kills us all!"_ The voice was different from the first one... almost recognizable. Jake's eyes widened in recognition. He turned to Charles to tell him who it was but was stopped as the women shoved them both over the railing, falling into the black, salty water. He felt Charles land somewhere in the water next to him. It was a few seconds before Jake resurfaced, Charles popping up next to him. A beam of light hit his eyes, blinding him for a second. The light was coming from the helicopter, cutting them a path to the ladder. He turned to Charles who had already begun swimming towards where the ladder dangled. Jake followed, legs kicking furiously and arms moving in powerful strokes. He was so focused on swimming to the ladder that he didn't notice the gigantic, 20-foot wave coming from behind them until Charles shouted back a quick _"watch out!"_ Without warning, the wave crashed over Jake's head, submerging him completely. He tried opening his eyes to see but the salt stung his eyes too much, and for a short amount of time he was stuck in complete darkness, not knowing which way was up or down. He began panicking before his life jacket pulled him to the surface, leaving him gasping and sputtering for air. The wave had thankfully brought him closer to the ladder, thank Poseidon. It was only a few yards in front of him, and Charles was already grasping at the bottom rung. He saw Charles pull himself up, looking back to search for Jake. When he saw Jake was okay and close behind them, he focused on holding on to the slippery ladder and climbing it steadily up into the helicopter. Just as Jake grabbed the ladder himself, a shot rang out behind him. He looked back to see two silhouetted figures standing on the boat, firing guns madly into the water, nowhere close to him or Charles. His gaze was fixated on people with the guns that he didn't notice the helicopter flying up and dragging him out of the water. He quickly climbed up a bit more, securing his grip so he wouldn't fall back down. 

He looked up to see Charles already climbing into the helicopter. He turned around, poking his head out and looking down at Jake. _"Come on, Jake! Get up here!_ " Jake began making his way up before abruptly stopping. _"Where is she?"_ Charles looked down at him, a confused expression on his face before catching on. He looked out toward the ship, scanning the water. His eyes stopped on something, his face becoming white as he looked back down. _"Just come on, Jake! You're going to fall!"_ Jake scrambled his way up the ladder, almost slipping because of his missing finger. Before he even grabbed the last rung, Charles pulled him into the safety of the cockpit. He turned back around, looking out into the ocean for the woman, but he just couldn't spot her. 

_"I don't get it. Where is she? We just can't leave her!"_ Jake yelled as someone tugged him further inside, pushing him into a seat. Charles sat beside him, giving him a slight nudge as he pointed out toward the boat. 

"Jake," Charles whispered, now that Jake could hear him better. "Look." Jake followed where his finger to where he was pointing. As the helicopter began flying away from the ship, Jake saw a third person at the feet of the two people with guns. He almost didn't see them, if it weren't for the bright orange life jacket they were wearing. The woman hadn't even jumped off the boat before getting shot. He slumped back into his seat, leaning his head against Charles' shoulder. Not even noticing, he began crying, hot, wet tears spilling down his face. After everything they'd been through, Jake finally let himself break down and fall apart. He sobbed miserably into Charles' shoulder as Charles held him tightly, tears falling down his own face. 

"It's okay, Jakey. We're safe now," Charles whispered into his hair. And as they flew away, somewhere behind them, the boat was struck by lightning, waves capsizing it and dragging it to the depths of the vast ocean, into a dark abyss, horrible memories sinking with it. 

***

And as they flew away, they failed to notice the second helicopter flying towards the other side of the boat. They failed to notice the four people jump off the boat, life jackets on and guns holstered, climb up their own ladder. They failed to notice the small tracking devices strategically sown into the skin on the back of Jake and Charles' necks. They failed to notice the helicopter following them as they made their way slowly out of the storm, hiding a ways back in the dark clouds, using the tracking devices to follow them. And hundreds of miles away, someone else was following their trackers on a computer screen displaying a map of the world, two red blinking dots making their way slowly across the screen. Two dots in the Atlantic Ocean, moving towards the United States Northeastern coast. The person watching the tracker feed was a man somewhere in his late 50's with salt and pepper hair and scarred face. He sits at his desk, hundreds of miles away, leaning back in his chair, feet kicked up on his desk. He picks up his phone, flips it open, and speed dials the only number listed on his contacts. It rings three times before the recipient picks up. 

_"Hey, boss."_

"Jeremy, darling! I thought we've talked about this! You're allowed to call me by name. You should know more than anyone that I hate being called _sir_ or _boss,"_ the man scoffed into the receiver. Though he was called sir or boss by his... lesser "employees," Jeremy was his number two, the most important person he had, and he'd received the privilege of calling him by name instead of the stupid "formality" that others called it. 

_"But what if someone's listening?"_

"By the _code_ name I gave you, Jeremy. And I _assure_ you, no one's listening in. Because if we have done our jobs right, there's no _reason_ to listen in. Okay?" He wished everyone would just call him Bruce, but his higher-ups said it wasn't "Professional" with a capital P. 

_"Uh, okay si- Mr. Coleman. What do you need?"_

"Oh, yes, right," Bruce said, remembering why he called in the first place. "You have the helicopter following the kid, right? And his partner?" 

_"Yes. Once the storm clears up a bit, we have a plan set in to extract them."_

"Brilliant. When you get them, I need you to make sure not to harm anyone else directly. No guns any people," he said, switching over to a more businesslike tone. "Make it look like an accidental crash or something, something plausible that could happen on its own. If anyone drowns that's on them. Make it look like the kid and his partner just got lost in the ocean, or died along with the others." There was a slight pause on the other end before Jeremy responded, speaking to someone else on his side.

_"Okay, yes, I think we can do that. Uh, can I ask why?"_

"So it doesn't look like we took them. Get the bloody American police off our backs. They aren't too close, but they're getting there. If our... operation gets out it will ruin everything. Got it."

 _"Got it. We're on it right away."_ Before Jeremy could hang up, Bruce continued speaking.

"And Jeremy? One more thing."

_"Yes?"_

"Get this over with quickly and get back here," he said, voice becoming softer and gentler. "I miss you. I haven't seen you in weeks since Peralta caused trouble. Get out of bloody America so I can see your face."

_"Of course, Bruce. I'll be back soon. I miss you too."_

"Bye, love."

_"Goodbye."_

Bruce hung up, staring a contemplating gaze at his phone. Sometimes he wished he and Jeremy met somewhere else, had something of a normal life. He stared back at the computer screen, spacing out as his eyes followed the two dots representing the people who were making his life sooo much harder until he eventually fell asleep.

***

It was a tricky operation getting the helicopter to go down without being spotted. But even with the short amount of time and the intensity of the situation, Jeremy made it work. Quick thinking was what made him so good at his job. Sitting safely in a black jeep right on the U.S. North-Eastern coast, he gave orders into his earpiece, staring at a computer with his own two blinking dots and another with the current weather patterns. The storm was still going on, but in the direction, they were headed, the dark clouds should be beginning to clear up. The plan was to have their own helicopter hover some ways back and above the other helicopter holding Jake and Charles, have one of their trained snipers shoot the main rotor, and make that helicopter go down. It was easy enough, his team was perfectly capable of doing it, but they had to get the timing just right. Bruce said to not be spotted and make the crash look accidental. At least accidental enough until it was investigated further. With the storm, it should be hard for the American police to spot them, even using radar, so as long as they weren't seen, everything should be fine. 

Jeremy wanted more than anything to get this over with. Compared to the other jobs and assignments he'd been on; this task was a walk in the park. He'd done more difficult things, but it was the severity of the situation if they _didn't_ go according to the plan that was so terrifying. Jeremey wanted to be out on the helicopter with the rest of the crew, but he had been a fraction of a second too late. As much as he trusted his team, he felt safer going out on the field. His earpiece sprung to life, a muffled static before anyone spoke.

_"We have eye's on the Americans, repeat, eye's on the Americans, ready to take the shot, over."_

"Have you been spotted? Over"

_"No, sir, over."_

"The waves have died down, correct? Over"

_"Yes, the waves have died down and were ready to grab them. Dante's ready with the needles and we have Sullivan waiting at the island. Just waiting for your order. Over."_

"Take the shot. Call me when you've got them. Over and out." Jeremy cut the transmission on the earpiece, not wanting to distract his team. He sat, chewing at his bottom lip with anticipation, eyes locked on the two blinking dots that taunted him on the screen.

***

Jake was startled from awake by a familiar blaring sound when he was just about to doze off. At first, he thought he was back in the boat, awakening to find everyone in panic and disarray. The helicopter was moving jerkily through the sky. Looking out a small window, he could see the blades were struggling to keep the helicopter in the air, not fully giving out yet. Next to him, Charles was sitting up, back straight and ready for action. Across from them, two more people sat dressed in full cop attire. Jake could barely make out their faces, but one of them was Holt. He had a headset on and was listening to something. Probably the pilot panicking in the cockpit. 

"What's happening?" Jake shouted, to be heard of the siren. Holt shouted back, adjusting the straps to his own life jacket.

"The main rotor is giving out! We're going down! This is an amphibious helicopter, but still, brace your-" before he could finish the main rotor fully gave out, the blades stopped spinning, and they began their fast descent to the sea surface.

It was only mere seconds before they hit the ocean, water splashing up all around them. It jarred Jake's body, causing him to clamp his teeth down painfully on his tongue. He pulled his head up from where it had lolled forward, head dizzy. They seemed to have landed right side up, so that was a plus, and water wasn't rushing into the helicopter. Despite that, there was a sharp smell of gasoline and smoke. Across from Charles, the other person who had come along was undoing their seatbelt. Jake began fumbling with his own, struggling to undo it with his missing finger. Beside him, Charles undid his own before moving on to help Jake. The mystery person spoke to them, opening the door of the helicopter quickly. 

"You two need to get out now. This thing might explode!" the person shouted, motioning them out. Without hesitation, Jake and Charles jumped right back into the cold, unforgiving ocean and began paddling away from the helicopter to a safe distance. Jake turned to Charles, grabbing onto his arm when they stopped. 

"What do we do?" he said looking up at the sky. The clouds were beginning to clear away, and the downpour had turned to a light drizzle. Even though the storm was passing, they were still out and in the middle of the ocean, bobbing in freezing water. Jake's teeth chattered as he took in their surroundings. Open water stretched all around them, but to his right, _very_ far off in the distance, he thought he could make out a tiny peak of land. He was so invested in staring at the possible land that he didn't notice Charles taking to him. When he did, he realized that Charles had abruptly stopped talking and his eyes were wide with horror. 

"What is it?" Jake asked, following his eyes. Charles was looking at the crashed helicopter, watching as the mystery person was dragging out a body with them as they jumped into the water and began swimming towards him and Charles. It was Holt, entirely limp and unconscious. 

"Oh my God. Is he oka-" Jake was cut off as the helicopter exploded. A warm, hot force pushed them back from the explosion, a new wave carrying them back and away. The sound of the explosion was so loud that it left Jake's eyes watering and ears ringing madly. Water lapped over his face as shards of metal flew past him. He looked back at what was left of the helicopter, vision slightly fuzzy from the sudden burst of light. It was now simply a scrap of metal, a burnt frame of a helicopter sinking into the ocean right along with the ship. He was pulled from his transfixion by someone shaking his shoulder. 

_"Jake. Jake!"_

Jake turned to Charles who was floating next to him in the water. Charles was speaking, but Jake could hardly hear him. It was like someone stuffed cotton into his ears. He was about to say something when there was a sharp pain in his neck. He reached back to feel whatever it was when a huge wave of sleepiness wafted over him. His eyes began to shut and his brain shut down into unconsciousness. He barely registered slumping his head onto Charles' chest. As he slowly slipped away, he could hear the faint sound of a helicopter coming closer and closer. If it hadn't been for the loud explosion, he would have heard it sooner. 

***

The sound and vibrations of a buzzing phone woke Bruce from his nap. He sat up, fully alert, and answered. 

"Do you have them?"

 _"Yes, we do. Mission success."_ Jeremy responded. A grin broke out across Bruce's face.

"Wonderful! And what about the others?"

_"When the helicopter crashed, it exploded shortly after. The others are dead."_

"Fantastic! And no one else saw you? Are you sure there were no other survivors?"

_"I'm sure."_

"Okay." Bruce relaxed in his chair. The deed was done with no problems. Now he had not much else to worry about except for getting Jeremy home. "Where are they now?"

_"They're about to land on the island and switch of with Team Badger."_

"And where are you?"

_"Waiting at my gate at the airport. It's boarding soon. I should be back in about 8 hours."_

"Do I need to come and get you at the airport?" 

_"I was gonna' call a taxi, but yes, you can."_

"Same airport as usual?"

_"Same one. I should be landing around 4 a.m."_

"Okay, darling. See you then. Love you."

_"Love you too."_

Bruce hung up. Somewhere in the North Atlantic Ocean, two helicopters were landing on an island, ready to transfer Jake and Charles and take them to Europe. 

***

Jake blinked his eyes open to darkness. Blindfolded again. His head felt heavy and his whole body was numb. His ears still felt clogged, but he could hear the familiar sound of a helicopter. He was sitting in a chair, hands cuffed in front of him, gag around his mouth. He could feel the presence of two people next to him. 

They had been so close. _So close_ to escaping. They were on their way to safety. To freedom. But they had fallen right back in. Jake wanted to kick and scream, cry, punch something if he weren't so _tired._ Yell at God maybe. Face the heavens and curse his father's name. But his whole body was led, and he had sunken into a deep, dark, inescapable void the second he dragged Charles to talk to the detectives. _Charles._

He had almost forgotten. Where was he? Did they grab him too? Did they leave him to float in the ocean? He had so many questions, but he could feel his eyes close and his mind slips away. He was doing a lot of that recently. Falling into an unwanted unconsciousness. I guess it was better than being dead. If it weren't for Charles, he'd rather have been killed than simply tortured. 

***

_Back at the nine-nine._

The whole team sat in the conference room. Well, at least what was left of them. Sarge was standing at the front, addressing the whole group. Everyone sat in the rows, fidgeting, and looking at him anxiously as he talked. Rosa and Amy sat next to each other, worry on their faces. Even Hitchcock and Scully were paying attention. Gena was also in the room, uncharacteristically silent. The group of four were the only ones who seemed especially skittish. The beat cops and a few other detectives were treating the case like any other. 

"One week ago, Detectives Peralta and Boyle went missing," Sarge said, speaking loudly at the podium. "At first, we thought it was just because of Peralta's father's death, but after a further investigation, we found otherwise. We were notified by the precinct where the case was being solved originally, and the captain informed us that Jake and Charles were injecting themselves into the case. They talked to both detectives to gather information, which presumably led to Miss Elly Moores being attacked. We found on Jake's computer a hard drive containing a letter from his father and emails between him and a man named Randall Ward. We tracked him down and found him dead, as some of you may already know. We have handed the letter over to the FBI, as it had information that possibly threatened our countries safety. In the letter, Mr. Peralta talked about a 'ring' or 'group' of people doing illegal acts across the world. It is under our impression that it is the same group who kidnapped Jake and Charles earlier this week." He stopped speaking; a glum look on his face. He stared down at what he had written on his cards, hands shaking. Most already knew this, but there was more, and he was scared to continue. He looked back up, looking at his team sadly. They had meek hope in their eyes. Someone had secretly radioed them, the mole, and had told them were to find Jake and Charles. They had sent out a search team. The helicopter with Holt. _Holt._

"We were able to find them and get them safely on the helicopter-" there were sighs of relief all around the room. Then he continued. "But... Something on the helicopter malfunctioned, and they crashed into the ocean. We have people checking the scene right now, but we have found no one alive. Much of the wreckage has sunk, and the FBI is thinking of closing the case." Everyone in the room gasped. As Sarge finished, tears were streaking down his face. He would allow a few tears, but he wouldn't break down and sob. He was their leader now. He needed to be strong. He looked at what was left of his team. Amy was crying into Rosa's shoulder. Rosa had an arm around Amy, but her face stayed impassive. Anyone would think she didn't care, but Sarg knew she did. On the inside. She also thought she needed to stay strong. Gina stood up abruptly, running out of the room. Sarge was on her heels, following her to the supply closet where she slammed the door before he could get her attention. He tried the handle but found it locked. He knocked gently, whispering softly through the door.

"Hey, Gina. Could you let me in?" He heard some shuffling than a click. He opened the door slowly to see Gina sitting on the floor, legs brought up to her chest and sobbing in between her knees. He knelt down, closing the door behind him. He reached out a hand and placed it tentatively on his shoulder. "You okay?" She brought her eyes up to him, nearly shouting. 

"No, I'm not okay! You just told me, my childhood friend, my stepbrother, and my boss are all dead! What do you think?" She put her head back down, crying harder.

"I know, I know."

Suddenly, she flung her arms around Sarge's neck, face pressed into his shoulder. He held her tightly, tears stinging his own eyes. 

"I mean, how can that be possible? All three of them? _All three?_ What are we supposed to do?" she mumbled into his shirt. "They can't be dead. _They can't be!"_ Sarge didn't say anything, just hugged her tighter. He didn't know what to say or think either. After 20 more minutes of crying and comforting each other on the supply closet floor, they stood, situation themselves, and left to go see how the others were doing. 

***

The search teams had been scanning the ocean around where the crash happened all day. There was a faint hope in everyone's chest that they'd find them bobbing in the ocean, possibly with some hypothermia or frostbite, but still very much alive. But the mission was still futile. They had spent two days searching, even going as far as 30 miles from the crash site, and still found nothing. Hope was dissipating in everyone, and funeral arrangements were already being made. Everyone in the precinct was mulling over their current cases slowly. Kevin hadn't been to the University since he got the phone call about the crash. Jake's mother had gotten a hotel room close to the precinct, along with Charles's family. Sarge was trying to stay strong, but it was hard. _Very_ hard. Zeke was staying at the house to help Sharon with Cagney and Lacey. Over the past few days, he hadn't been as present as he usually was. He'd barely worked out and was having trouble keeping food down. Every time he ate, he pictured the helicopter exploding and the occupants burning. Occupants he had worked with for years, had become friends with. 

Gina was faring any better. She hadn't come into work since the last meeting, and when Terry did his daily check-ins, she was always just rolling out of bed, face gaunt. It was strange, seeing someone so usually cheery and confident like that. He heard from someone that Rosa was staying at Amy's for the time being. Hitchcock and Scully also seemed sad, but they weren't one's to care much about their colleagues.

They had been able to retrieve some of what was left of the helicopter. They were still going over it, looking for details and clues. Since they hadn't found out about the crash until a few hours after, it was mostly burned. Thank god for its floating devices, otherwise, they would have lost everything.

The funeral was to be set in three days, giving enough time for the families to be talked to. Since everyone in the crash had been some sort of officer of the law, many police officers and detectives would be present, wearing their uniforms. Terry was feeling sick thinking of the funerals. They had been so close to getting Jake and Charles back. 

Terry was currently sitting in the Captain's office, acting as temporary Captain. It felt weird. Holt's personal things had been removed and given to Kevin, but it still felt like he shouldn't be in there. Like he was intruding. He was thinking, any second, Holt would come in and demand why Terry was sitting at his desk and to leave immediately. Everything just felt so _wrong._ And where Jake and Charles had been before? Kidnapped by some worldwide cult? Some conspiracy? The FBI had already taken that part of the case over, but in the pit of his stomach, Terry felt like his precinct was far from being finished with them. Though others may think it a terrible thing to think, Terry wished that by some chance Jake and Charles had ended up in their hands once again and were being tortured instead of dead. I mean, they hadn't finished investigating the helicopter, right? What if they found something? Terry didn't let himself think about it too much. He didn't want to get lost in a delusion that they were still alive somewhere, maybe on the other side of the world, especially because the chance was so slim. And, thinking like that would be good for no one. It's funny how close to the truth he actually was.

***

On the other side of the world, Jake sat in a room similar to the one he had been in on the boat. Only this time, the room was bigger and slightly nicer. And of course, there was no gentle rocking of the sea. And in this room, the chair he was in was facing the door and it was a _lot_ more comfortable. And instead of being tied down with rough rope, he was handcuffed to the table like perps at the precinct. With his hands spread out before him, he gave the stump on his hand a good look. He hadn't paid much attention to it, but obviously, he should have. The wound had partially opened back up and blood was slowly trickling onto the table. It had turned slightly green and was throbbing with what he was sure was an infection. It was starting to reach further up his hand, causing more pain than it should have. God, he really needed some antibiotics. But the worst part of it was the smell. The smell of blood, bacteria, and dead skin. The smell suddenly hit him, now that he was paying more attention to it, and he gagged, pulling his head back. His stomach lurched with food that wasn't there, and he leaned over the arm of his chair, dry heaving and hoping he wouldn't through up. All he managed was some spit before he slumped back in the chair, trying desperately to ignore all the pains and aches of his tired body.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *evil cackling laughter* Hope you didn't think they were getting out of there so soon, were you? I thought about ending the story around here, but I wanted more pain. Sorry about killing off Holt, but I thought Jake's dad's death wasn't "Major Character" enough for the tags, and the way the story was going, I didn't want to get rid of Charles or Jake. They will have a happy ending, I swear! Eventually. Sixth chapter should be out in a week or so. My school load just dropped a lot. 
> 
> Side note, I recently discovered The Brobecks, which is a really good band, and I wish I found them sooner. They only have, like, one album though, but at least all the songs on it slap. I should also probably update the tags. I'm including more characters than I thought I was going to.
> 
> *Edit*  
> I think I'm going to take a short break from writing this fic and work on a new one based of the movie "I Now Pronounce you Chuck and Larry." I've been writing just this one for so long, and I'm starting to get a little bored. Don't worry, I will come back to it!

**Author's Note:**

> First chapter done. Yay! I'll mention again, I accept any feedback, but don't be too harsh, this is my first fic! I'll take any suggestions you have, but probably not anything too major. I'll try to post a new chapter every week or so. I gonna try and make this at least 20,000 words long, but it'll probably end up longer. I should have the next chapter out soon!


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